


The Whovian

by MultiSketch



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Eleventh Doctor Era, F/M, Major Original Character(s), Minor Blood and Torture, Multiple Doctors (Doctor Who), POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Platonic Female/Male Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 44,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23914975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MultiSketch/pseuds/MultiSketch
Summary: Everyone wants to be the Doctor, but only a few get that sort of chance. August Keyes is one of the lucky ones, but as he finds himself living his dream and facing his nightmares, he's not sure this is quite what he wanted or expected. Featuring: An Original Character August Keyes The Tenth and Eleventh Doctors as well as their companions: Donna Noble, Amy Pond, and Rory Williams!
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Historian’s Note:  
> For those who wish to keep up with the timeline of events, for August Keyes Series Ten has just started. For the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble, between “The Unicorn and the Wasp” and “Silence in the Library”. For the Eleventh Doctor and the Ponds, it is soon after “A Christmas Carol”, but before “The Impossible Astronaut”.

**The Doctor** **held** up a small, paperback book triumphantly. “Look at that,” he said.

Donna Noble looked at the cover; Agatha Christie, _Death in the Clouds_ was written in bold font, followed by a beautifully painted picture of a wasp trailing a biplane through the sky. She smiled softly, “she did remember.”

“Somewhere in the back of her mind, it all lingered. And that’s not all,” said the Doctor excitedly as he handed the book over to Donna. “Look at the copyright page.”

Donna opened it, “facsimile edition,” she read aloud. “Published in the year,” Donna paused, her eyes widening much to the Doctor’s pleasure. She looked up at him, shock clear on her face, “five _billion_?!”

He smiled at her, “people never stop reading them. She is the _best_ -selling novelist of _all_ time.”

Donna sighed. “But she never knew.”

“Well, no one knows how they’re going to be remembered,” said the Doctor, taking the book back from her, “all you can do is hope for the best. Maybe that’s what kept her writing.” He paused a flicker of sadness in his eyes. “Same thing keeps me travelling.” He blinked, looking back at Donna, “onwards?”

“Onwards,” she agreed, his smile reflected in hers.

“Well then,” the Doctor closed the chest he’d gotten the book from and pushed it back under the grate flooring. Once everything was back in its place, he offered Donna a hand up and then he was at the console, dancing around the controls with practised ease. “Speaking of long remembered authors and their books, _I_ have got the _perfect_ place for us to visit.” He gave Donna a cocky smile, coming to stand next to her at the handbrake. “Fancy a trip to _The Library_ , Miss Noble?”

“Depends,” said Donna, “do I need a library card?”

His smile only grew at her teasing. The Doctor shoved the handbrake into position, watching as the time rotor began bobbing up and down, the wheezing and groaning of the TARDIS exciting him even after all these years.

“Think of the biggest library you can think of Donna,” the Doctor whizzed around to the other side of the console, focusing in on the controls, although Donna couldn’t tell you what he was doing. “Then forget it because it’s _insignificantly_ tiny to the library I’m about to take you to.” He moved over to the console monitor, “51st century should be perfect, brilliant, _Molto bene_!”

“51st century? Should probably change then, yeah?” Donna asked, already making her way to the stairwell giving access to the rest of the TARDIS.

“Probably, yeah,” came the Doctor’s absent-minded reply.

“And you?”

“Hmm? What about me?”

“Is pinstripe _really_ accepted no matter where you go? Why’s it only me that’s got to change?” Donna waited for him to answer her, but all she got in response was some muttered words about a ‘gravitic anomaliser’ and Henry the VIII. “One day,” muttered Donna, “I’m gonna get you to wear something else besides that daft old suit—WAH!”

Unexpectedly there was a sudden burst of light from the console. Donna heard the Doctor’s loud exclamation of “ _Woah!_ ” and her own screaming as the TARDIS began to shake violently, giving her Vertigo. Donna hung onto the TARDIS wall for dear life, all sorts of bells and whistles going off around her.

“What the _bloody hell_ is going on!” She shouted.

“Somethings interfering with the TARDIS’s telepathic circuits!” Cried the Doctor, “her temporal stabiliser is going all out of whack!”

“Which _means_?!” Cried Donna, barely being able to focus on the Doctor as her vision was rocky.

“We’re being pulled through the time vortex at an accelerating speed. The TARDIS is—” he paused a moment, as the TARDIS jostled rather hard, causing Donna to rocket forward and collide with the jump seat, “—if we don’t slow down soon the TARDIS is going to rip a hole through space-time that could destroy the entire universe and everything in it.” The Doctor looked at Donna, a terrified expression on his face that Donna had never seen before.

The TARDIS lurched, and Donna fell backwards. Unable to keep her footing, she fell on her back, hitting her head on the grate flooring. She was out cold.

“ _Donna!_ ” Cried the Doctor, saved from the same fate by the jump seat. She looked okay, no bleeding, probably only a mild concussion. Not that it would matter much in a few moments when the world went boom. The TARDIS lurched forwards, and the Doctor collided with the console, getting the air knocked out of him. Taking the chance, he grabbed at the handbrake, pushing it upright once again.

A disgusting grinding noise echoed throughout the TARDIS as the time rotor came to a wrenching stop. The TARDIS came to a hard stop, the Doctor felt relieved, falling back into the jump seat. He honestly didn’t think that would work, but he was glad that it did.

“It stopped, it stopped,” he muttered, his breath quick. Glancing at the monitor he noted the coordinates and year. “Andromeda Galaxy, eighteenth century, _well_ , for Earth anyways. How’s that Donna? Donna? Oh.” He’d forgotten she’d hit her head. He didn’t feel like moving, but he willed himself to. He got onto the floor next to Donna and checked over her. No damage, not even a scratch. He’d just have to wait to see if she had a concussion when she woke up.

He would have waited for her had there not been a knock at the door. A serious, stricken look crossed his features; the Doctor turned to look at the TARDIS doors. He stood and waited.

A second series of knocks echoed from the doors.

_Toc-Toc._

“Who’s there?” Asked the Doctor, his tone curious at first.

There was no answer. For a moment all was still. The Doctor took a few steps towards the doors to his precious ship, his movements calculated. “Answer me!” He said, raising his voice.

Without much warning the Doctor found himself bathed in a bright, all-encompassing white light. He shielded his eyes, trying to get a glimpse of what was infiltrating his TARDIS. The best he could make out was a humanoid outline slowly making its way towards him from the doors.

“Who’re you? What do you want?” The Doctor cried, “whatever it is I can help you! You don’t have to resort to violence! I can—”

“ _Be silent, Timelord_.” It was a whisper. Something that didn’t sound quite real to the Doctor’s ears. Perhaps a mental projection of a voice, but he knew what those sounded like. This was something different, something the Doctor didn’t quite understand. Perhaps it was because of how dizzy he was beginning to feel and the ache of his bones, the tiredness that was overtaking him. He suspected the blurriness of his vision was not a cause of the hard light anymore.

“Do what you want with me,” murmured the Doctor, “just leave Donna alone. She has nothing to do with this, so just, just—”

Unconsciousness claimed him.


	2. Chapter One: August Keyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historian’s Note:  
> For those who wish to keep up with the timeline of events, for August Keyes Series Ten has just started. For the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble, between “The Unicorn and the Wasp” and “Silence in the Library”. For the Eleventh Doctor and the Ponds, it is soon after “A Christmas Carol”, but before “The Impossible Astronaut”.

**It all started** three years ago on a perfectly _ordinary_ day.

August Keyes walked down Main Street, his head low, weaving his way through passers-by. With one hand he was tapping away at his phone screen, the other holding a tray of coffee cups. His pace was brisker than it would usually be at eight in the morning on his way to Nana’s shop. Several times he had to apologise to others as he occasionally ran into people.

August entered the shop and went straight up to the front counter. He placed the tray of drinks and a check (a rather high sum as well for the type of shop it was) in front of the elderly woman stationed there.

“You’re early,” her raspy, old woman voice chortled, sparing no glances for August as she continued stocking the candle row on the shelf behind the counter, “you’re never early.”

“This is important,” said August, chewing at his lip. A nervous tick of his. “I need it for this _afternoon_.”

“Yes, Parady mentioned something about a costume party you two were going to the other day.” The old woman’s voice sounded a touch disapproving.

“It’s not a party, Nana.” She insisted he call her this, even if they weren’t related in any fashion. “It’s a _convention_ , way more important than a party.”

“And _expensive_.” Nana tutted as she placed the last candle on the shelf. She faced August, a warm glow in her otherwise steely gaze. Her eyes flickered down to the check, which she snatched up, along with one of the drinks in the tray. “Sugar, no milk?”

“Just the way you like it,” said August, tapping his foot impatiently.

She took a sip, then smiled, “it’s in the back, I’ll fetch it for you. Be back in a moment, feel free to look around, dear.”

While Nana slipped into the backroom, August looked on. Between the assortment of knick-knacks and do-dads that lined the shelves, he listened to the tick-tock of the old coo-coo clocks and the old radio crackling along, smelt the old pumpkin candles that Nana always kept lit to mask the smell of must. The small shop hadn’t changed since he was a toddler. Even the old CRT TV was still sitting in the corner with all the tapes stacked haphazardly around it. Although the children chairs were missing, mostly because he and Parady had broken them years before.

“So, how’s work at Bernie’s going for you?” came Nana’s voice.

“ _Terrible_ ,” said August, adjusting his glasses, “just the usual crap. Someone brought in a computer that had melted cheese in the hard drive, I mean how does that even happen?”

Either Nana didn’t hear him or was ignoring his usual griping, for all she said in response was, “is it not here? I thought it was here…” She came out of the backroom, still looking around. “What about travelling? I thought you said you were going to go travelling.”

“Maybe when I was _nine_ ,” August said with a laugh, “it’s not exactly easy to just pick and go. I sort of need money to do that.” With a sip of his coffee, he muttered, “and maybe a TARDIS…”

“Oh, the TARDIS.” Nana shook her head at August, “ever since you were little that’s all I’ve heard, Doctor this, Doctor that. Sometimes I regret ever letting you watch that old show.” Despite her words she smiled, “I remember Parady was always so _scared_ of the monsters, but you would sit right in front of the TV, a smile on your face. You used to say—”

“—the Doctor wouldn’t be scared of the monsters, and I’m him so I’m not scared?” finished August, feeling embarrassment rising in his chest.

Nana laughed the sort of laugh that only comes with reminiscing on fond memories, “you carried those dingy screwdriver toys with you _everywhere_.”

“Still do,” August muttered to himself, letting his fingers rest on the cylindrical object in his front trouser pocket.

“What was that?”

“I said, I did, yeah,” August coughed hard, refusing to meet Nana’s eyes. “Little old me, and those dingy screwdrivers.”

August could feel her staring at him as he poked at the beak of a stuffed parrot. “I think I left it upstairs,” she announced. “I’ll be just another minute.”

“Alright.”

August’s eyes were drawn back to the CRT in the corner of the shop again as Nana left. He recalled all the long nights when his father was busy with work and Parady’s parents had date night that Nana took care of them. _Terror of the Zygons_ was what August had chosen, his eyes glued to the screen, perhaps a little too close for comfort while Parady kept beside Nana. Since then, watching all those old Doctor’s running about with their companions had become a tradition of theirs.

He could almost see the three of them sitting there when he was just ten years old, a brand-new Doctor with big ears and leather jacket on screen, running away from bad guys and aliens with Rose Tyler by his side. It was a magical moment when the first of the _NuWho_ regenerations happened on screen, the first August had seen _live_ , not just on some old tapes Nana collected. June 18, 2005, was the day August met the man who would forever become _his_ Doctor. He didn’t think he’d ever worn a different style of tennis shoes since he’d seen the Doctor parading around the universe in converse trainers. (One day, he’d vowed, August was going to find an accurate recreation of that long swishy coat; and when he did, he doubted he was ever going to take it off).

He picked up one of those old tapes from the pile, looking over the dusty box fondly. _Logopolis_. Oh, that was a heart breaker. The _first regeneration_ little seven-year-old August experienced. There were a lot of tears as Nana had to explain what had just happened. He was actually somewhat embarrassed to say that hadn’t been the worst bout of tears during a regeneration. There was a reason he’d only sat through _The End of Time_ all the way through once. That and _The Time of the Doctor_. Well, that and… oh who was he kidding, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t get teary-eyed during any of the Doctor’s regenerations (except maybe Colin Baker’s, that one was just plain funny, he did feel bad for laughing, though).

It was at that moment that the little bell on the front door jingled and with a lively roar, Parady made his presence known, startling August from his thoughts.

“Zander J. Parady, reporting Nana!” He cried, dropping an armload of hand-stitched clothing onto the counter. He looked round, “uh, Nana?”

“She’s upstairs fetching me the _thing_ ,” called August, popping his head around the corner.

“Ah, right. The _thing_.” Parady smirked, wiggling his thick, black eyebrows at August. “You gonna actually tell _her_ about the _thing_ at the convention or chicken out like you did on your first date?”

The ‘her’ Parady was referring to was Holly J. Wilkins. For as long as August and Parady had been friends, they had also known Holly. She was head-strong and stubborn, Holly never had any problems keeping up with the two boys back in the days when they would run around outside swinging sticks around while their parents talked about adult matters. As the years continued, the boys began to find it more trouble for them to keep up with her. She was amazing.

“I was only sixteen, I didn’t know what I was doing,” August countered.

“Nine years later and you still don’t, dude.” Parady gave August a cheeky smile as he took his drink from the coffee tray. He took a large _slurp_. “I think the convention is a perfect place to do it, Augie. You’ll both be in costume, I can record her reaction and everything, she’ll be surprised, fans will riot,” he let out several whoops and hollers in mock of the onlookers he was hopeful for, “honestly, dude, she’s gonna _love it_.”

“Holly’s such a lucky girl.” Nana’s voice came from the front desk. She was sorting through the clothes Parady had brought in; August wondered how long she had been standing there.

“I wouldn’t say so, she’s stuck with him, isn’t she?” Parady joked.

“Better than being stuck with you.” August retorted.

“Watch it, August,” said Parady, swatting at him with a grin on his face. August dodged with ease and nailed Parady on the arm with a solid playful punch. Parady cried out, but his mischievous smile let slip that he wasn’t really hurt.

“Now boys, what have I said about roughhousing, you might break something!” Chastised Nana, “do it in your own houses, now,” Nana presented a brown paper bag and slid it across the counter, “here you go August, your _thing_ is inside. Give Holly my best wishes.”

August took the bag grinning ear to ear. He couldn’t wait for the look on Holly’s face when he gave her what was now officially dubbed, the _thing_.

Parady wrapped his arm around August, “come on, man, we got two more stops to make before we meet up with Holly. See yah later, Nana. I’ll send pictures!”

“You boys be careful!” Nana called, “with all those missing people reports going on, you never know who’s gonna disappear next!”

“Will do. Thanks again, Nana.” August called over his shoulder as Parady pulled him out of the store. He took one last glance at the CRT, a smile drawn on his lips.

He wouldn’t chicken out this time or any time after, he was determined to ask Holly to marry him.


	3. Chapter Two: Convention Connection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historian’s Note:  
> For those who wish to keep up with the timeline of events, for August Keyes Series Ten has just started. For the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble, between “The Unicorn and the Wasp” and “Silence in the Library”. For the Eleventh Doctor and the Ponds, it is soon after “A Christmas Carol”, but before “The Impossible Astronaut”.

**Holly sat herself** on the steps to the Dalery Hall, Convention Centre as other cosplayers passed her by. She held herself tall with her thin legs crossed as she scrolled through her phone to distract her from the itchiness her blonde wig caused. Never mind the heatstroke she felt she was about to get from wearing a leather jacket in ninety-degree weather.

“Yo! Holly!”

She looked up from her phone, smiling at Parady as he came running up to her. The plastic bulk of his Cyberman suit made his run awkward and slow, which she couldn’t help but laugh at it.

Holly waved at him, a big grin on her face. “Hey Parady!” she cried, enveloping him in a hug, careful not to damage his suit. “What took you guys so long?”

“Augie was having a tough time with his tie.” Parady nodded his head behind him, to the shorter boy in a brown suit and glasses. He might not have the tan coat, his glasses might be round, and his suit without pinstripes, but the outfit was still recognisable. He was fiddling with that old tie of his as he sauntered over to the two. Holly felt her cheeks redden when he looked up and smiled at her.

“Hullo, Hols,” August greeted using the accent of his character. A nice sort of posh British accent that made him sound _sexy_.

Holly nearly tackled him into a hug, baring into the excitement she was feeling towards today’s events. She gave August a peck on the cheek. “Missed you.” She said, then added, “my _Doctor_ ,” in the accent of her own character—more cockney then his.

“HUMAN-EMOTIONS-WILL-NOT-BE-TOLERATED,” said Parady through the synthesizer in his Cyberman mask.

“Shall we,” asked August, motioning to the doors of the convention centre. He extended his elbow for Holly to take.

“We shall,” said she, looping her arm through his.

“UGH,” Parady said through the synthesiser, “HUMANS.”

As ever, security wasn’t a breeze but was more tolerable than anything at an airport. They had to be with all the weird things that were brought through the doors from people’s cosplays. Holly had seen her fair share of craziness, but today seemed to be particularly interesting. Most of what she saw out on the convention floor was rather impressive, if not overzealous in some respects. It made Parady’s Cyberman costume look rather dingy in comparison to all the full body suits, stilts, and other such costumes. Her and August’s looked like thrift store replicas to some rather fancy and accurate clothing pieces. It made her feel a tad bit insecure.

“Have you ever seen a turn-out like this!” Exclaimed August, having the exact opposite reaction to her own at all the intricate costumes.

“What got Dalery on the map I wonder,” said Parady.

“Don’t see any _Doctors_ about though, hope we're not the only ones,” said Holly, “I see a few Daleks and maybe a Weeping Angel, but that’s about it.”

“I don’t even care,” said August gleefully. He pulled Holly close to him, pointing off in the distance, “do you _see_ that Ironman over there? Look at the sparks in his hands! I wonder what power source he’s using.”

Holly couldn’t help but laugh at his cheeriness. “Where to first then?”

After a surprisingly long while of standing around deciding where to go, the trio finally started to make their way to the different tables, looking at the little knick-knacks, art, taking pictures with other cosplayers. August spent most of the time talking with them about their suits and their operations, how they worked, what material was used. It was all rather boring to Holly, but it made him happy, so she waited patiently with Parady who was much more taken by the art and comics than anything else.

“Next time I make your suit, Z, remind me about _Terathin Modelling Clay_ ,” August was saying, “apparently it’s a lot better than the plastic I used. Less fragile and more authentic.”

Parady was flicking through a comic he had picked up from one of the tables. “Would I be able to pee without taking everything off?”

“Erm…”

“Like I said last time, it’s not an improvement till I can.”

“You don’t _always_ have to go as a Cyberman, you know,” Holly said, “there are other Doctor Who monsters or even a companion? What about Captain Jack?”

“Nah, he’s nowhere near as handsome,” teased August, “what about Mickey?”

“Do you want to get _deleted_? Cause at this point, it seems like you’re asking for it.” Parady reached out his hand, menacingly. August, dramatic as ever, pulled out his toy screwdriver, pointing it at Parady.

“Want to get _soniced_?” He asked, putting on the accent rather effectively.

Holly laughed as she watched them dance around each other in mock poses of their characters, each one getting more ridiculous after the last.

“Excuse me, Miss?”

Holly turned to find a young boy only seven or so, holding a Cyberman helmet in his hand. He was looking at her like she was impossible and magical. Like she was his hero. _This_ was the part Holly enjoyed. She got down on her knees, locking eyes with the child’s mother, before looking to the boy. “Yes,” she said in her accent, “what do you need?”

“I was wondering,” he said, nervous and cute as could be, “would you and the Doctor mind taking a picture with me?”

Holly smiled, brightly, “of course! Just let me make sure he’s done fighting the big old mean _Cyberman_.”

The boy nodded, and Holly stood.

“You’ll never defeat me, Cyberman!” August was shouting when Holly tapped him on the shoulder. He looked at her, somewhat annoyed at the interruption, but when she pointed towards the boy, he brightened again. She whispered the situation in his ear, and he nodded.

“Hullo!” He said, gently, “I’m the Doctor, Rose tells me you want to take a picture with us?”

The boy nodded, his mother cleared her throat, “please,” was added to the nod.

Still holding his screwdriver in one hand, August kneeled next to the boy, Holly on the other side of him.

The mother held her phone up. “Say ‘ _Doctor Who’_!” She called.

After a few more pictures and a small chat with his mother, the boy—Tommy—gave his small cute nod to Holly and August. “Thank you for protecting me, Doctor. From all the monsters in my closet.”

“You’re welcome, Tommy,” said August.

“You guys look so cute together.” Parady teased once Tommy was gone.

“Don’t we just.” Said August, smiling down at Holly. She looked up at him with shining eyes. “Which reminds me, Holly there’s something I’ve been meaning to—OOF!”

Holly didn’t catch the end of the sentence as August was pushed forward by a very faithful recreation of a clockwork robot from S.S Madame de Pompadour.

“Hey!” Cried Holly, helping August back to his feet, “watch where you’re going!”

It didn’t even spare a glance at Holly. “You are the Doctor,” it addressed August. “Confirm?”

“No, that’s not fair you can’t just—” Holly was ready to tear into this cosplayer, but August put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a small smile. He was always more tolerant of hardcore role players than she.

“Yes,” he said, “I am the Doctor.”

The cosplayer reached up to August, pointing a small device that emitted a green light at him. “Oi! Watch it!” Said August, keeping character.

The cosplayer made two passes with the device over August’s body. Once they were done, they seemed to stall for a moment.

“Scans indicate you do not possess a respiratory bypass system. The Doctor possesses a respiratory bypass system. Explain.”

August sighed, Holly could tell he was getting irritated, if only slightly. “Well that’s cause, erm, I—” he looked towards Holly for answers and she shrugged. If it were her that had been pushed, she wouldn’t be giving this joker the time of day. August deflated. “Really? You can’t just go along? Have to get all… _meta_?” Asked August, returning to his normal voice.

“You are not the Doctor.” Stated the cosplayer, “confirm.”

August sighed, “no, I’m not. Cause he’s not _real_. I don’t even really look like _David Tennant_.”

The cosplayer turned, rather impressively in mock of the clockwork robots. “A suitable replacement for the Doctor must be located.”

There was a moment of awkward silence as the trio waited to see what the cosplayer was doing.

“Are they just going to keep standing there being an ass?” Whispered Holly.

“We could always just _walk away_ ,” muttered Parady.

The cosplayers head immediately twisted to face August once again. It was creepy. They did not say anything. Weirdly, Holly felt her heart rate spike. Then they turned and walked away, as casually as if that strange exchanged hadn’t just taken place.

“ _Weird_ ,” August muttered. “Amazing cosplay, though. Did you hear the _ticking_?”

“Asshole,” Holly stated.

“Oh sure,” said August, “I don’t know what his problem was.” His gaze was empty for a moment as he stared after the cosplayer, but then he turned to Holly with a smile on his face. “Anyway. What’s next?”

“What about that?” Parady wrapped his arm around August’s shoulders, pointing towards a blue box in the distance, waving his phone in his other hand. “Wouldn’t it _perfect_.” A look was exchanged between the two boys and Holly wasn’t sure what they were up to.

“I want to get a picture of you two first,” she said, taking out her own phone as she walked over towards the replica TARDIS.

Parady stood to the left, leaning up against the side of the TARDIS, a fairly relaxed stance for the costume he was wearing. August stood in front of the doors with his hands in his pockets. After a few more pictures, Parady walked over to Holly.

“Your turn,” he said, “the _Doctor_ needs his _companion_.” Holly walked up beside August, standing next to him in front of the TARDIS. “August, why don’t you get inside the TARDIS; act like you’re just stepping out of it,” Parady suggested, giving him a small wink.

August smiled back, “right,” he said, opening the doors. He stepped inside and the doors closed behind him. Holly wondered what he was doing when suddenly August started making banging noises from inside. “Erm,” she heard him mutter, “the doors seem to be sort of… _stuck_.”

Holly tried to open them. “Uh oh,” she murmured.

“I don’t like ‘uh oh’,” came August’s voice.

Holly laughed nervously, pushing harder against the doors, “they won’t budge.”

“Okay, you push, and I’ll pull on three,” said August, “one… two… three.” The doors rattled but did not open.

“What the hell did you do, August?” Asked Parady, giving a go at the doors himself.

“I dunno!” Cried August, sounding irritated. “They were fine a second ago.” From the outside Holly and Parady watched as the doors shook back and forth, accompanied by a few choice curses from August inside. There was a loud bang and a huff. 

“I’ll see if I can find the owner of the box, see if there’s a key or something,” said Parady, “hang tight, Augie.”

Holly stayed at the doors.

“You were going to ask me something,” she said after a few moments had passed, “before that asshole showed up. What was it?” August didn’t say anything. Holly pressed her ear up against the TARDIS doors. “Come on, August. You wouldn’t have brought it up if it wasn’t something important.” Still no response. “August, is something wrong?” Growing anxious, Holly tried the doors again, “August you’re scaring me, say something?” She banged against the door, “August, please?”

“Back away miss, I’ve got the key,” a man said from behind her, followed by Parady. “This happens all the time, the locks fairly old.”

“He stopped talking,” Holly told Parady.

“I’m sure he’s fine, you know how mopey he can be.”

“Erm, yeah no one’s in here.”

Holly brushed pass the box owner to look inside the replica TARDIS. August was nowhere to be seen. “Well, he couldn’t have just gone!” She cried, “is there a trap door or something?” She was on her knees, feeling around the bottom of the box.

“It’s just a box, miss.” Said the box owner, “are you sure your friend was trapped?”

“Did you step away, Holly?” Parady asked. “Maybe August was joking and just stepped out to scare us a bit.”

“But he doesn’t do that!” Cried Holly, “and I was here the whole time!”

“Maybe he disappeared, an awful lot of people doing that nowadays.” Offered the box owner, “Milton down on 4th Avenue said his wife was in the kitchen then just _gone_ , hasn’t heard from here since. She’d even dropped the coffee mug she’d been holding. It was almost like she just— _poof_! Gone.”

“What, like zapped away?” Parady asked.

“Not helping!” Said Holly, her cheeks flushing red.

“So, where has he gone to then?”


	4. Chapter Three: New Doctor, Same Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historian’s Note:  
> For those who wish to keep up with the timeline of events, for August Keyes Series Ten has just started. For the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble, between “The Unicorn and the Wasp” and “Silence in the Library”. For the Eleventh Doctor and the Ponds, it is soon after “A Christmas Carol”, but before “The Impossible Astronaut”.

**It was warm** like the sun was basking him in all its rays and he was just there to live in it, to soak it all up. It was the most amazing feeling August had ever experienced.

Then it began to burn. It began to tear at him from the inside out and he was screaming, there was no one to hear him. He was all alone as the scorching light ate at him. He didn’t know what to think or feel and it was killing him, killing his mind, while his body was being burned to a cinder. Piece by piece he was being destroyed. He was dead, scattered, a crumpled leaf whose destination was left to the wind.

In the same instant, he was put back together. Every single piece unified once again, like pieces of fragile china. The seams being sewed back together felt like pulling off a scab; painful, but the itch was gone afterwards. It almost felt brand new, sickly, and cold. His head was spinning, he ached, his taste buds were dry, but at least he felt alive, he was alive, and that alone was _brilliant_.

August breathed in heavily, suddenly aware of the smells around him. Dust, oil, lubricants, burnt plastic, and, most intensely, what he could only describe as a fruity peppermint.

“ _Doctor_!” Holly called. No. Not Holly, someone else. She sounded familiar, awfully familiar. August knew that voice but couldn’t quite place it within his muddled-up head. August could feel the light touching his eyelids, coaxing him to open them up, but there was something so peaceful about the way his head tingled as he was dosing off into unconsciousness.

“Doctor, _can you hear me_?” That rattling voice rung in his ears once again. August gave a frustrated mumble in response; didn’t they know he was trying to sleep? He had a big enough headache as it was, there was no need to shout at him. Come to think of it, when did he go to bed anyway? Wasn’t he at the convention centre with Holly and Parady? Had he hit his head or something? If he did, he must have hit hard.

“Oh, good you can hear. So, will you _please_ get your skinny alien ass up and tell me what the _hell_ is goin’ on?!” The voice prattled on to August’s annoyance. Yes… he definitely knew that voice. He could almost make out a face in his head, some sort of… gingery vibe. Talkative, loud, brash, snarky, funny—oh… Hold on, that couldn’t be right.

“ _Donna_?” August muttered. He could just barely open his eyes. All the thoughts running through his head at the moment gave him a boost of adrenaline, but the light was still intense.

“Why’d you say it like that? You gone and forgotten about me or something?” She asked him, sounding genuinely hurt.

With an enormous amount of effort, August was finally able to get his eyes open. He blinked, adjusting his eyes to his new surroundings. He found himself staring at his outstretched hand. Behind that was the base of a large piece of machinery. Moving his head, he felt the rough metal of the grate he was laying on dig into the back of his skull.

“The TARDIS…” he mumbled in awe, staring up at the domed ceiling, wide-eyed. A dream, perhaps? No, he knew what dreams felt like, he was awake. A set? But the dome went all the way around and— “hello,” said August as his gaze fell onto Donna—Catherine Tate? A cosplayer? Was this some sort of prank? Then again, the dome… Oh, he didn’t know. Dizzy and achy, all August wanted to do was go home, get some aspirin, and go to bed. Ugh! He could hardly think with this constant pounding in his skull, let alone the woman who wouldn’t stop staring at him.

“ _Hello?_ ” She repeated, flabbergasted. “Is that it?”

August ignored her, focusing on sitting up. His back and neck ached even more. He struggled to get a hand under himself, then found her hands on his arm, helping to lift him up. Once he was on his feet, he wobbled. He felt… taller? Oh, way taller; and he almost fell. Her hand guided his to the small metal fence behind them. It was slick, clearly a reason for the smell of lubricants intruding his nostrils.

The room was spinning. “What the hell,” August murmured. He shook his head several times to try and get the feeling to pass, clenching his eyes closed shut until he could properly focus. When he opened them again the woman-who-looked-very-much-like-Donna-Noble was staring at him with a somewhat confused expression, yet at the same time _very_ unamused. August was at a loss for what to say to this stranger who may or may not be an actor he adored or simply a _really_ good cosplayer. “Did you kidnap me?” was all he could think of.

Before he could even blink, the woman gave him a good whack across the cheek. A moment of shock flitted across August’s face as he did a double-take. He’d never been slapped in the face in his entire life and he really didn’t feel like he deserved it now.

“OW!” He cried, holding his burning cheek, “what was that for?!” August shrieked as his headache flared.

She narrowed her eyes, sucked in her cheeks, and crossed her arms, a not happy look upon her face. “Do I have to spell it out to you? ‘Did you _kidnap_ me’? What sort of a joke is that? Not a very good one I’ll tell you! I was worried sick! Honestly, what goes on up in that little alien brain of yours? Do you even have one? And what about your accent? It’s all _American_ now—"

“—What’s wrong with being American?” August rebutted defensively, overlapping her voice. Oh, he didn’t like that. He sounded _strange_ , all sort of gravely and proper.

“What does it matter? Does this sort of thing happen often? You get amnesia and get a different accent to go with? Is it some Time Lord-y thing? How hard did you hit your head?”

A sudden moment of clarity and understanding flowed through August’s mind. This _had_ to be some _fan_ thing, which was all well and good, except these people had to be crazy! Kidnapping him and bringing him to this, well, rather impressive TARDIS set if he was honest, but still! You don’t just do that to a person! That’s completely mad!

“Are you with that clockwork robot cosplayer?” August asked, growing serious, “cause I’m gonna tell you now this _really_ isn’t fun and like I told him I’m all one for role-playing but not like this. This is just—well, _rude_.” He rubbed at his temples after he spoke. His headache was dulling, but it was still throbbing intensely, plus he had to deal with this nonsense which wasn’t any help, but there was something else nagging at him. He was beginning to realise he not only felt taller and sounded different, but like something was fundamentally off about him. He couldn’t explain it.

‘Donna’ interrupted his thoughts. “What the hell are you on about? Have you finally gone loony? Like proper mad, chuck you off to the loony bin kind of crazy? Am I stuck in space with a mentally impaired alien? Oh, just great.” She hollered, walking around in circles.

“Right,” said August, really fed up with whatever game was going on at this point. As much as he enjoyed roleplaying, this was intolerable. The doors were right behind him, he could walk out, call the police, get this group arrested—a shame really, this set, the cosplayer, they were quite good—and then he could go home. Too bad his plans with Holly were ruined, but he could always wait until the next opportunity arose—WOAH!

Space.

Quite literally, space. Outer space. Past the doors, there was nothing below his feet, but the starry stretch of the cosmos and he hung out the door, simply gaping at its beauty

He wondered if it was real, or some type of illusion, but he could _feel_ it. The cold bitterness of space graced with a starry warmth and for a moment he was scared to breathe.

He felt Donna’s presence beside him, a tentative, very warm, very real hand on his shoulder. He let out the air he had been holding, shaky and hitching in his throat.

“Is it real?” He asked faintly.

“It is.” She replied, her tone delicate as if she was afraid her words might break him.

August leaned out a little more. Then a little more till—

—his footing slipped.

August expected gravity to pull him down, but instead found himself floating out in space. The shock of it caused him to cry out and he closed his eyes, waiting for death to consume him.

When he realised, he wasn’t dead yet and, in fact, still breathing; he opened them again. What he saw made his jaw drop.

“ _No way_.” He whispered in shock.

It was the TARDIS. As a police box. Smaller on the outside with the doors wide open to reveal the large room inside it which just so happened to be upside down. Donna was standing inside, calling out to him.

If August hadn’t thought he’d gone crazy before, then he knew now. What he was seeing was completely and utterly impossible and yet there it was. _The TARDIS_ , he kept thinking. The actual _TARDIS_. He was reminded of that episode, with Wilf, where Donna and the Doctor had passed through the night sky, waving at the old man and an odd sort of glee passed through him as he felt the need to whoop and holler with joy just like Wilf had. He didn’t, but the urge was strong.

The TARDIS seemed to be moving closer to him. When it was within reach, August grabbed at the door frame with one hand, Donna grabbing his other. Gravity took its hold and he collapsed on the ground on top of her.

“Get off!” She shouted. August quickly got to his feet clumsily and stuck his head back out the door.

“Okay.” He said, half out of breath, “so it’s real then, but how?” He reached out and felt the smooth wood of the box exterior. Looking back out into the cosmos, the stars came alive in his eyes; he even thought he saw— “No!” He exclaimed, “that _is_ a spaceship. That is a _real_ spaceship. Look at that!” He laughed excitedly, watching as a large silver vessel passed by the TARDIS, engines hot as it just went about, through space, like any old spaceship would do, minding its business.

As quick as his excitement had grown it collapsed again; the sight started to overwhelm him. He held the doors closed. Part of him still couldn’t believe it. _Space_ , actual Space, real TARDIS, real rocket, real…

“Donna.” August turned around to face the woman. She looked back at him; apprehension clear on her face. She didn’t say anything, but that was alright because a bunch of new questions started brimming in August’s mind. “Wait, but then… where’s the Doctor? And how did I--? But you can’t--? This can’t--? But it is—” a short laugh escaped his lips, “but…” August felt his reality starting to collapse around him.

He found himself on the floor, his back against the doors, his head in his hands. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word for the longest time.

“I may not know what’s happening with you,” Donna said, sitting down next to him, “but everything’s gonna be alright, you hear? Just tell me what you need, Doctor.”

August looked up at her, his eyes searching hers a moment as everything was starting to become clearer than it ever had been in a very frightening way. “You keep calling me, Doctor.” He said softly.

“Because… you’re _the Doctor_ ,” said Donna, “at least that’s what you’ve told me.”

“Do I look like him?” August asked as sincerely as possible, “do I look like the Doctor?”

“What kind of—”

“Just answer me, Donna!” August interrupted rudely, “Yes or no, when you look at me do you see the Doctor?”

“Um, erm, yes?” Donna looked at him dumbfounded, “wait, what’re you saying? Are you _not_ the Doctor?”

August was back on his feet quickly, ignoring Donna’s barrage of questions. It was all starting to make sense in a mad, sickening way. Why he felt taller, why his voice sounded all weird and _wrong_ , why everything felt off in such a _fundamental_ way. Before he completed the ever-frightening thought that he was very much so in the wrong body (which he wasn’t about to accept so easily), August unbuttoned his suit jacket—pinstripes, his didn’t have pinstripes, then undid his shirt—white, not the blue he had been wearing. He searched the lower part of his—rather skinny—torso for the scar he’d had since 4th grade when Nelson pushed him into a bunch of broken glass. He found nothing, not even a tell that a scar had ever been there. August could feel what little self-control he had left dissolving quickly.

Ten more seconds and he would have gone into full-on panic mode.

But that was when they ran into something; or rather, something ran into them.


	5. Chapter Four: Trust Issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historian’s Note:  
> For those who wish to keep up with the timeline of events, for August Keyes Series Ten has just started. For the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble, between “The Unicorn and the Wasp” and “Silence in the Library”. For the Eleventh Doctor and the Ponds, it is soon after “A Christmas Carol”, but before “The Impossible Astronaut”.

**Captain Phieso stood** motionless, staring at the white dotted blanket of space. His four-fingered hands were held together behind his back, his yellow eyes void of emotion.

At the back of the bridge, the elevator door slid open. No-one turned to look at the man who exited. “Pardon the intrusion, my Captain.” The young man came up to his leader. Phiseo nodded at him and so he continued. “The stow-a-way child has been captured and put in the holding chamber with the others.”

“Great work, Feric,” Phiseo replied, “extra rations will be awarded to you today.” Feric nodded and made to exit the bridge.

“Sir,” one of the Lieutenants spoke. She was looking at a red light beeping on her control deck. “We have a bogey off our six.”

Phiseo grunted in annoyance. “Trouble?” He asked.

“I am unsure, sir,” she frowned at her screen, “it is definitely a craft of some kind, but—” she paused, shaking her head, “—its shape is… _unusual_.”

“On screen, Lieutenant.”

A small blue box appeared on the screen. “What in Uthura’s name is THAT?” Phiseo growled.

“It would appear to be a _box_ , sir.”

“I can _see_ that, Lieutenant. What’s it doing out in space?” 

“I don’t know, sir. Should… should we do something, sir?” Asked the Lieutenant.

“Space Junk.” Phiseo stared at the box on the screen for a long time. “If it is a craft of some kind, those flying it should know better than to enter _Daemon territory_. Bring it in, standard protocol, bay 17, let Feric look into it.”

* * *

Feric breathed a heavy sigh of relief once inside the elevator, holding tightly to the bag of rations he had claimed. A moment later the doors opened onto the prison deck. Feric cringed at the sound of profanities, the yells, and cries. The dying, the reckless, all the pain and suffering. He walked through quickly, making his way to the steel door. He turned the wheel, turning, and turning until it opened. He closed it quickly and tightly behind him to silence the pain.

From there, Feric made his way down a maintenance ladder towards cargo bay seventeen. No one ever came to cargo bay seventeen. It was reserved for space junk that the Captain would have Feric sort through. It wasn’t the most glamourous job, but at the moment he was glad for it.

“Did they believe you?” Came a voice.

Feric held up the bag of rations. “I believe they did, Thelia.”

Thelia, a young girl, as alien to Feric as the people held up in the prison deck, smiled as he handed her the bag.

She went to open it. “Not here,” said Feric, “in the bunk.”

Thelia nodded and disappeared into the piles of junk littered about. Feric followed, entering the small hole that led to their makeshift home.

Thelia broke open the bag seal, evenly dividing the meats and vegetables between them onto the metal bits that acted as plates. “Let us eat in honour of the goddess.”

Feric held up his hand to toast in honour of the girl’s god when the intercom began beeping. Feric quickly held his finger to his mouth, Thelia doing the same. He crawled out from the hole and stood, walking over to a small panel on the wall. He pressed the blinking red button. “Cargo Seventeen reporting.”

“Cargo Seventeen, a bogey is entering in T-minus 2. Be prepared for docking and searching. If occupants are found, you know what to do. If nothing of value can be located, you have the Captain’s permission to scrap it. Over.”

“Command received. Over.” The comm cut out.

* * *

“What the _hell_ did you do, you _dumbo_!?” Donna screamed as the TARDIS rocked backwards. She held on to one of the large coral struts lining the walls of the control room as the Doctor—no, not the Doctor. WHOEVER, or WHATEVER had taken control of his body fell back onto the floor.

“I didn’t do anything!” The imposter cried, his American accent giving Donna the creeps. It made the Doctor sound _weird_ and all sort of… of rough. She felt stupid for not realising it right away, this _thing_ wasn’t like the Doctor she knew at all. Stupid Donna! Stupid!

She watched him stagger to his feet, wobbling. “Felt like a crash,” he muttered, rebuttoning his shirt he had undone earlier for God knows why. This imposter seemed a bit unstable. “Somethings crashed into the TARDIS,” there was another tremor, Donna could barely keep on her feet, “something _is_ crashing?”

“Doesn’t feel like a crash,” said Donna, despite herself, “feels more like an _earthquake_.” She held tighter to the coral as another tremor passed.

“In _space_?” The imposter bounded over to the console, looking at the monitor. Donna stayed safely behind her pillar. “Do you know how to work this?” He looked at her. She glared back. “Right, sorry.” He moved away from the console and back towards the doors.

“Oi! You’re not going out there without giving me answers, sunshine!” Called Donna. This bloke wasn’t about to jump out of the TARDIS with the Doctor’s body and leave her all alone, was he? He opened the doors, sticking his head out. He called out something, but Donna couldn’t hear him. “WHAT?”

“I said a tractor beam.” He said, pulling his head back in, “that ship I saw early, it’s pulling us towards it with a tractor beam; towards a docking bay it looks like. Oh, that is amazing! And also, _really_ bad!”

“You wanna come back inside before you end up out in space, again?” Donna chastised. She wanted answers. As soon as he closed the doors, she decided she was going to get some. She came up behind him. “Now are you going to tell me,” she started calmly, “who the _bloody hell_ you are? What have you done with Doctor? Where is? If you’ve hurt him, I’ll—” she held up her hand, her only good weapon, and probably the only one the Doctor would ever allow.

“—My name is August, August Keyes,” said the imposter, quickly, holding up his hands, “I don’t know where the Doctor is, and I don’t know what _I’m_ doing here. I’m just as confused by all of this as you are! Please don’t slap me again.”

He sounded earnest enough, but Donna wasn’t entirely convinced, “you knew my _name_ , how’d you know my name?”

The imposter, August, sighed, “that’s—that’s going to take a lot of explaining, half of which I don’t entirely understand myself.”

“Better start now, then.” Donna walked over to the console and planted herself down on the jump seat. “ _Talk_.”

Another tremor passed, but she held her gaze.

August stared at her, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Okay,” he said, “um, so… before—before I was here, I was at this _convention_ with my friends. Everything’s a bit foggy, but I remember talking with Holly and then suddenly you were shouting at me and I was over there.” He pointed to the place Donna had found the Doctor—erm—August unconscious after she had woken up.

“That doesn’t explain how you _know_ me, me or the Doctor,” Donna said, trying to be as patient as possible. It wasn’t going to do the Doctor any good if she started flipping out.

“Right, erm. Well, see I think, I would think, ah—” Donna gave him an impatient look. “Doctor Who,” he blurted.

“What?”

“It’s a show, on TV. A show called Doctor Who, it’s about the Doctor’s life.”

A pause.

“Are you having me on?”

“No, I’m not—”

“What do you take me for? An _idiot_? A show on the telly? What kind of—" Donna suddenly found her mouth covered by August’s hand, well, not August’s, the Doctor’s but—oh, this was all so confusing.

“Christmas day,” said August slowly, “you were getting married to Lance when suddenly you found yourself in the TARDIS with the Doctor because of the Huon particles Lance had been feeding you in order to revive the Racnoss in the centre of Earth’s core.” Donna glared at him, but he continued, “the Adipose, all the little creatures made of fat, Wilf got to see you and the Doctor off when you decided to go travelling with him.” He looked at her like that’s all the proof she needed. “There’s no way I should know that, right?”

Donna swatted his hand away and moved across the console so that it divided them. She pointed an accusing figure at him, “you’ve gotten the Doctor’s body through some sort of—of body swap, mind-meld, or something. How’d I know you haven’t got his memories?”

August paused, nodding to her words, “true,” he said, chewing at his lip in thought. Donna thought she had him and was about to lay into him again when he brightened. “Ah, ah! _But_ the Doctor doesn’t know about when you hid in the bathroom! Right? I’m right, right? The lady, what was her name? _Foster!_ You thought she was looking for you, but she found that reporter instead. You were on the phone with your mother Sylvia a moment before! She asked where you were and why you were whispering. You told her you were at church!”

He was right, of course. Donna hadn’t told the Doctor about that and he seemed to remember it better than her even. “Alright,” Donna agreed, “I’ll give you that one, but I think I would know about a TV show about the Doctor’s life! Especially if I was a part of it!”

“ _Parallel Universe_!” Came August’s quick reply, and he pointed at her triumphantly, as if that was as good enough of an explanation as any.

“ _Oh_ , you have an answer for everything don’t you!” Donna sneered.

He opened his mouth to say something more when a new voice interrupted him.

“Cargo Bay Seventeen door, opening, please wait.”

“What was that?” Asked Donna. “You said something about a tater thingy pulling us into a ship, yeah?”

“Tractor beam, yeah,” said August.

The automated voice sounded again, “Cargo Bay door, closing, please wait.”

“What do we do?” Asked Donna at a whisper.

“I dunno,” August whispered back, “normally the Doctor—”

“—Well, he’s not here, is he?! Instead I’m stuck with _you!_ Who in the hell are you, anyway?!” Donna snapped, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with emotions. Normally, she wasn’t very frightened about what could be beyond those doors, but without the Doctor and this absolute stranger who was talking loads of nonsense, she felt very scared indeed. “And, where is he? There could be anything out there!”

“Vehicle occupants.” The automated voice called out, “please exit your vessel or be terminated.”

“Oh, just _great_!” Cried Donna, “did yah hear that! There gonna bloomin terminate us! What are we supposed to do? What can I—”

“Donna! Donna,” August interrupted. He walked over to her, placing both of his hands on her shoulders. She felt herself shaking in fear, or perhaps that was him; perhaps it was both of them. He looked her straight in the eyes with this frightened yet determined look. “I know you’re confused and scared. So am I. I’m in a completely different body, in a completely different universe and there is a-a hecking huge _spaceship_ that just pulled us in with _a tractor beam_ with no Doctor and—and no help from someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”

“Well, that’s encouraging…” muttered Donna, “are you always this good at pep-talks?”

He let out a small laugh, Donna could see his eyes starting to water. “Can you just _trust_ me. Just for now. Cause whatever’s out there, whoever, they’ll come for us. No one picks up the TARDIS in space without good reason and I—” He swallowed hard; Donna was unsure how he was going to finish that sentence. “We can talk about all of this after, I promise. I’ll explain everything I know about you, about the Doctor, about everything, but right now I think its best we don’t let ourselves get, well, _terminated_.”

He looked at her silently for a moment, she chose to actually meet his eyes, searching for something, anything to reassure her. Everything was all so confusing and complicated; she didn’t know what to think of this stranger that had taken her best friends’ body. Her mouth opened several times to speak but the words were never able to come out. He looked scared, terrified; a small child trapped behind the brown eyes of an ancient lord. _What would the Doctor do?_ Then like a flick of a switch, her face changed into one of firm resolve. She had made her choice.

“Okay. Just for now. But that’s it. Then I want my answers. Then we're going to find the Doctor. Wherever he is.” She affirmed; determination set in her eyes.

“Agreed.”


	6. Chapter Five: Aboard Ship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historian’s Note:  
> For those who wish to keep up with the timeline of events, for August Keyes Series Ten has just started. For the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble, between “The Unicorn and the Wasp” and “Silence in the Library”. For the Eleventh Doctor and the Ponds, it is soon after “A Christmas Carol”, but before “The Impossible Astronaut”.

**August had absolutely** no idea what he was doing. He was afraid, so very afraid, but also _really_ excited. Like a kid at a candy store about to steal all the jellybeans. Excited about the candy, nervous about getting caught. It went all throughout his body. Well, it wasn’t really _his_ body, now; was it? He noticed his hand was shaking as he was reaching for the TARDIS doors and heaved a heavy sigh.

“Could you be any slower?” Donna’s voice caused him to jump. “They said _terminated_ , didn’t they? What does that mean where you come from? Puppies and sunshine?”

August resisted the urge to say something in retort—not that he had anything, “sorry,” was what he ended up with, her nagging giving him enough resolve to simply open the stupid doors.

A blue light illuminated the room, fading in and out. Tubes and wires dangled from the ceiling, all converging down to a large mechanism in the middle of the room. It smelled of oil, a sort of iron-y metal and a disconcerting _fleshy_ smell; dirty. All around dirty as well. August dearly hoped this wasn’t going to be anything like Madame De Pompadour’s ship.

Strangely enough, there didn’t seem to be anyone in sight, it was fairly empty aside from all the junk spread out before them in what looked like very disorganised piles. The threat of termination seemed a lot less threatening now.

Despite the mess, the centre of the room was clear, giving way to a large machine. There were six round silver plates shaped in a hexagon on the otherwise metallic black floor, each about three feet in diameter. Around each spot hung what looked like machinery with nozzles pointing at the ground. The rest of the chamber was square and huge; enough for at least two small crafts, but with all the clutter there was barely any room for one.

“Not very pleasant, is it?” Said Donna, her nose scrunched up in an attempt to not breathe in the rancid air.

August made the same face, fully stepping out of the TARDIS. “God, it’s _hot_ ,” he muttered, pulling his tie looser, “think we're near the engines?” He asked, feeling the ground vibrating beneath his feet. He jumped, listening to the clink of the metal underneath his rubber soles.

“Where are the people that want to kill us?” Asked Donna, blithely.

“Dunno, maybe they went out?” August said, pacing around the machinery in the centre of the room.

“Went out _where_? For a _spacewalk_?”

“Not out, out,” August said. He was on his tippy toes, trying to get a better look at the machinery that had caught his attention. It seemed familiar for some reason. “They might be out doing other things, letting the automated system run landing protocols. Maybe they thought the TARDIS was junk and decided to pull it in.” August recalled Clara and the Eleventh Doctor’s trip to the centre of the TARDIS. That whole adventure had started because a salvage ship had mistaken the TARDIS for junk. “I mean, look around,” he gestured absent-minded to all the clutter.

“Fair enough,” said Donna and he could feel her eyes staring into him. “You almost sound like an expert,” and he knew how suspicious she was of him.

“Not really, I just spend too much time watching TV.” August ran his hand over the barrel of the machine, picking up a load of dust and slimy oils. Bits and pieces of a few mechanisms were broken, or so they appeared: bent metal, rusty. He found what looked like an on switch and pressed it. “Ooo…” He cooed. A soft red glow began emanating from the silver plates, a weird noise that made his ears tingle accompanying it.

“What’re you doing?” Asked Donna, she hadn’t moved much from the TARDIS, “do you even know what that thing is?”

“No,” August admitted, moving over to a small screen that had alighted on the other side, away from the TARDIS, “that’s why I’m finding out.”

“Is this a thing you normally do? Play with things that aren’t yours?” Donna continued, his meddling seeming to make her more nervous about the situation.

“Well it’s not like this is Nana’s fine china,” he muttered, “which was still not my fault. Shouldn’t have left the doors open around a six-year-old.”

On the monitor pad was a readout. It showed two sets of XYZ coordinates, one set was defined, the other undefined. There were a few buttons: initiate, set, and planet locator. The rest of the screen was crowded with more alien controls that August didn’t understand, but the function of the device had become clearer.

“A transmat…” he breathed, “a _real_ , _actual_ , _FUNCTIONING_ , transmat.” He was smiling like an idiot. This was the best part of any adventure on _Who_. Seeing all the wonders of places for the first time, being in the presence of an _actual_ transmat? Fascinating! “This is brilliant!” August said aloud, walking back from the device to behold it in all its majesty. “It’s like _Star Trek_!”

“Are you just gonna stand there _geeking_ out all day or are we gonna get a move on?” Donna was standing by the only non-cluttered portion of the wall where there was a door.

“Right,” said August, “sorry. This is all new to me still.” And he felt his heart skip a beat as he looked at Donna because the idea that he’d been on Earth minutes ago, at a convention, dressed in a shabby recreation of the Doctor’s suit with Holly and Parady, about to propose to the love of his life didn’t seem like minutes or even hours, but days and possibly years. Their voices were distant and foreign and Donna’s like an old friend’s who he hadn’t seen in a long time. There they were back in a routine that he felt more comfortable in than what was right. He realised then that more than one heart had missed its mark as he swallowed down the jumble of thoughts in his head and focused on the situation at hand.

“Looks like some sort of door control,” Donna said once August had joined her. There was a large panel on the door, basic components compared to what the transmat had. “You wanna _sonic_ it?” She asked.

“What? Oh, oh! Yes, right, sorry.” If August hadn’t felt giddy before, he definitely did now as he reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small silver cylindrical device with a dark cobalt crystal on the tip. He pressed the small black button on the side and watched as the crystal lit up to a brighter blue. He grinned, “think and point, right?” He pressed the crystal against the control panel and thought about wanting to unlock the door. As soon as the crystal touched the panel there was an alarm, whooping and hollering.

“TURN IT OFF, TURN IT OFF!” Screamed Donna, covering her ears.

August, reluctantly, pulled his hand away from his ears to point the screwdriver at the panel again. The alarm stopped. He breathed out heavily. “Okay, so, until I figure out how to use the sonic properly, I think it’s best I _don’t_.”

“Are you planning on staying long enough to find out?” Donna sassed, but by her expression, August knew she regretted it as soon as she had said it.” Sorry.”

“No, you’re fine. You miss him; I’m a stranger. It’s all good.” August put the screwdriver back in his breast pocket. He moved towards the door. It was solid steel with bolts protruding out of it. There wasn’t a window or anything. He thought, maybe if he could just push it open… Donna snickered as she watched him.

August grunted in aggravation when that didn’t work. “See any other exits?” He asked, breathless.

“I dunno,” said Donna, “there’s quite a lot of clutter. Hard to see any of the walls really. I mean what is all this stuff?”

“Yeah…” agreed August, “I would have thought a cargo bay would have been more organized.” He faced the door panel again, but it was still basic, and the nobs meant nothing to him. He thought that if he could understand anything on this spaceship, it would be the junk he already worked with at Bernie’s. “This thing is _ancient_. Reminds me of the sort of stuff you’d find in a World War II aircraft. Which is odd given the transmat has a touch screen. What do you think, Donna?”

“I think,” said Donna slowly, “you should turn around.”

August frowned, “why, what’s the Matter—oh.”


	7. Chapter Six: Orion's Daemons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historian’s Note:  
> For those who wish to keep up with the timeline of events, for August Keyes Series Ten has just started. For the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble, between “The Unicorn and the Wasp” and “Silence in the Library”. For the Eleventh Doctor and the Ponds, it is soon after “A Christmas Carol”, but before “The Impossible Astronaut”.

**August found himself** facing an alien. A real. Proper. Alien. Humanoid, yes, Scottish? Absolutely, but completely alien; purple skin, pure yellow eyes, ears like a fish’s fins and a long pointy, skinny nose and four-handed fingers, one of which was currently pointing a gun at August’s head.

“Over there,” the alien gestured with his gun, “step away from the door.” August and Donna did as they were told at an even pace. “That’s good enough, stay there.” The alien lowered his gun and walked over to the two, patting them down. Donna didn’t have any pockets in her flapper dress so there was nothing to find. August held his breath as the psychic paper, sonic screwdriver, TARDIS key, and the Doctor’s specs were all taken from him.

“What’s this?” Asked the alien, holding up the screwdriver, “a weapon of some sort? Is this what you used to activate the alarm?”

August didn’t dare say a word, chest-pounding wildly out of fear, eyes more focused on the gun then the alien or his words. Donna elbowed him.

“ _Answer him_ ,” she growled.

“Why do I have to—” Donna glared, “—it’s a screwdriver. Just for fixing things, not a weapon.”

The alien grunted and to August’s surprise tossed it back to him. “More like breaking them. What’re you two doing here, travelling in that. Honeymooning?”

“Oh, we're not together,” said Donna, as the alien handed the rest of the Doctor’s things back to August, “I don’t even really know _him_.”

“Why’d your ship pick us up?” Interrupted August, “we weren’t breaking any intergalactic laws, were we?”

“No,” the alien said simply. He continued on to the other side of the room. August and Donna spared a glance before following, curiously.

“Erm, Is that it, then?” He asked. “Are we free to go?”

“Without a ship?” Laughed the alien, “what do you plan on doing, jump out into space? No, even if you could leave Phiseo would have you shot in a matter of seconds, best you stay here.”

“You still haven’t answered why your ship took us in,” said Donna.

“Who’s Phiseo?” August asked.

The alien stopped at a small alcove made out of all the junk in the room. “In here.” He went in, Donna and August stared.

“After you, then.” Said Donna. He made a face at her, which Donna returned right back to him.

August bent down, just barely fitting through the entrance. He came out into a dark cave-like room lit by a green bulb placed on the low junk-formed ceiling. Inside was piles of books, empty paper bags, tattered blankets, and a girl.

She looked completely different from the other alien currently helping Donna through the hole. She had long silvery hair, a snout almost like a dog and two pretty green eyes that glowed bright in the light. Her skin was a milky colour covered with little dots that August bet were freckles.

“Hello,” said August, taking in her appearance with wonder. 

“You look strange.” Replied the girl.

“So, do you.”

She smiled at that. “My names Thelia, who’re you?”

“I’m August. This is Donna.”

“Hi,” said Donna, a bit breathless from the crawl. “So, why did we follow the alien into his _hole_ again?”

“Because this is the only place where we may speak freely, or else my Captain may hear us.” Said the alien. “My name is Feric, I would say it is nice to meet the both you, but it is neither nice nor very helpful.”

“Aren’t you _cheery_ ,” said Donna.

Feric ignored the comment, “you asked why my ship took you? This is _Orion_ territory. Anything within Orion territory belongs to the _Orion’s Daemons_.”

“And what’s that then? Some intergalactic gang?” Asked August, taking a moment to sit down instead of crouch uncomfortably. His knees were nearly in his chest.

Feric and Thelia looked at him, dumbfounded. “You’ve never heard of the _Orion’s Daemons_? Everyone in the known galaxy knows of the _Orion’s Daemons_.” Feric said.

“Maybe we don’t come from the known galaxy,” said Donna, “why don’t you explain?”

“The _Orion’s Daemons_ is a group of space fairing crafts, one of which you are currently aboard,” explained Feric, “they are the terror of the known galaxy, laying claim to everything across their path, pillaging planets, kidnapping peoples from their homes. All in the name of the Lady Uthura who blessed the Daemons with the power of space travel.”

“Sounds almost like the Mongolians back in their hay day,” said August to Donna. “So, this ship is part of that fleet?”

“Yes, this is one of the lesser ships, a _slave ship_.”

“Which I’m guessin’ is where you fit into the picture?” Donna asked Thelia.

The girl nodded, “my people were stolen from our planet weeks ago after our warriors lost against the Daemons.”

“The civilian adults were taken to be used as slaves, Thelia’s only here because of her mother. She’s a stowaway.” Feric hugged the little girl closely. “We’re in the middle of transport now. If Phiseo were to find you, he’d add you to the lot. There’s not much I can do except keep you here until we reach Axel V., I could supply you with a ship there.” Feric explained.

“And what about Thelia?” Asked Donna. “What about her mother?”

“There’s nothing I can do for her mother,” Feric shook his head sadly, “I can take her to my home and care for her, but her mother has little chance of freedom.”

“Where do you fit into all this, Feric?” August asked, his eyes flickering up to meet the alien man. “Why’re you helping Thelia?”

Feric looked down, “in truth she reminds me of my own daughter. One that I lost a long time ago. I cannot bear to see children hurt, not after what happened to her. I’ve… never agreed with the Daemons, but they are my people. It would be hard for me to escape them, so I live, trying to protect those I can, like you three.”

“This is terrible,” Donna stated, “we’ve got to do something, right? I mean, I know the Doctor’s not here, but we can’t just leave these people. It’s _wrong._ ” She looked towards August, searching his vacant expression.

“What can we do?” Asked August, his eyes glued to the green light in the centre of the alcove. He didn’t like this, not one bit. A million ideas ran through his head, but they were all superficial, plots that required too much convenience and a doctor they didn’t currently have. This wasn’t fiction anymore and it definitely wasn’t a game. _What to do?_

“We can figure out something. We’ve got the TARDIS.” Donna supplied. She was giving August this look; he could feel it even if he wasn’t facing her. The one where all the sass was pushed aside to reveal the vulnerable woman underneath who just wanted to help those in need. It made August feel guilty as the thought of simply leaving crossed his mind. It didn’t help when he caught a brief glance of his reflection in a spare piece of metal, judging him.

“Damn,” he muttered, rubbing his face with his hands, “dammit, I want to help. I really do, but I don’t know how.” He looked towards Donna, wanting her to tell him what to do.

“Well, we're not just _leaving_.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that.”

“Well, then what were you suggesting?”

“I dunno! I have some ideas; I just don’t think any of them will work!”

“Well then just say them! _Something_ is better than _nothing_!”

August huffed, “okay, well, there’s a teleporter out there, right? We could use that to beam the captives to somewhere safe. A nearby planet or something?”

“You think that could work?”

“Maybe? How many prisoners are on this ship? How many can be beamed down at once? How long will it take before the crew notices? Do we have anyone who can operate the damn machine?” August spouted, running his hands wildly through his hair in distress. There were too many variables at play, too many lives, and he was easily stressed under normal circumstances.

“Three thousand. Ten. Depends on how quick you plan on being. I can, I’m its operator.” Feric replied to each question with ease a ghost of a smile creeping onto his pragmatic face.

August stared at the alien feeling his own lips forming an agape ‘o’.

“Well then,” said Donna, getting to her feet, “should we get to it?”

August was at a loss for words.


	8. Chapter Seven: Prison Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historian’s Note:  
> For those who wish to keep up with the timeline of events, for August Keyes Series Ten has just started. For the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble, between “The Unicorn and the Wasp” and “Silence in the Library”. For the Eleventh Doctor and the Ponds, it is soon after “A Christmas Carol”, but before “The Impossible Astronaut”.

**“I can operate** the transmat from here. Since this is only a slave ship, if any of the crew think you any bit a threat to the operation, they’ll sound the alarms and the ship will go empty. The Daemons like to make an example of rebels by sacrificing the cargo,” Feric explained to August and Donna, “once the first escape pod ejects, the self-destruct sequence will start.”

“How long will we have after that happens?”

“About thirty minutes.”

“Good luck,” Thelia gave both of them a large hug, “and thank you.”

“No problem,” said August, “saving an entire race of people from slavery? All in a day’s work, right Donna?”

“For me maybe,” said Donna, “you still got to earn your _badge_.”

Feric unlocked the cargo bay door. “When you reach the intersection, go left, the signs should point you in the right direction from there. There are three rooms of cells all connected to each other. May the goddess protect you.”

Checking to make sure no one was on the other side; August led Donna up a maintenance ladder to a short corridor. To both the left and right, the corridor led about eighteen feet to more long hallways that were undisguisable from one another. Following Feric’s directions, they headed left. Farther down there was a cross way.

“Which way from here?” Asked Donna.

“This way,” said August gravely, walking towards the heavy metal door engraved with alien text that warbled and reformed into _cattle_.

August twisted the wheel attached to the door. “Little… stuck…,” he grunted.

“Oh, move over, noodle arms.” Donna grabbed the door wheel and twisted. It gave way. She smirked at August.

“I loosened it,” he said, pushing the door open.

As they stepped out into the room, it lit up with a neon blue glow. It was like a bomb had dropped as the two suddenly found their ears assaulted by the calling and shouting from the prisoners.

The chambers were not exceptionally large, tall, but they were only about 2 metres in width. There were small seats on each side of the alcoves, fitting about ten people, making up the length of the chambers. Most were sitting in the tiny spaces they had, but some were pounding against the metal bars that acted as the chamber windows, screaming for help, for death, for anything other than captivity. Between these chambers, linking them together in groups of four or five were narrow doorways, just wide enough for a person to barely fit through.

These doorways were barred by heavy glass screens, with holographic projections marking the total number of occupants in the cell: 50, their species: Duslo, and their destination: Homeward.

These chambers and doorways went on for half a mile before giving way to rusty metal doors that had to lead to two more rooms just like this one.

Neither of them said a word as they looked on, trying to discern the best place to start. August felt overwhelmed and he opened his mouth to try and dictate what they should do, but found his words caught in his throat.

“August? You alright?” Asked Donna.

He swallowed, “I will be,” and he fell against the wall, breathing in heavily, “I just—this is _awful_ , you know?” There were tears brimming in his eyes.

The people nearest to him, stood up and crowded around August. One reached through the barred doors and placed their hand on his shoulder. August turned around to be met by such kind eyes of an older lady. “I’ll get you out.” He promised, hesitantly taking her hand into his, trying to smile in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. She smiled back, patting his hand, but her expression quickly changed to one of fear. August’s brow furrowed.

“August—MMPH!”

“Oi! Ugly boy!”

August turned just in time to be met with the other end of a blaster. An alien, like Feric, on the other end. This one was a lot more muscular with plated armour and a snaggle tooth that August found himself staring at. “You better not think of going nowhere.” August raised his hands in the air, his eyes flickering to the other alien of the same type holding Donna’s arms behind her back.

She was glaring daggers into the alien.

“Ugly…?” August muttered.

“Ikkehm, lock him in the cells with these here, I think I’ll take this one to cellblock three.” The other alien looked at Donna with a nasty smile. She glared back at him.

“I’ll show you where my foot's about to be in a minute!” She shouted.

“Feisty, ain’t it?”

“Who’re you calling an ‘ _it’!_ ” The alien holding Donna began for the other end of the corridor, while Ikkehm grabbed at August’s arm, prepared to drag him across the hall. “August!” Cried Donna.

August’s breath was quick. He had to think of something! He couldn’t just let that alien walk off with Donna, nor let this joker lock him up! There would be no hope of anything, then. What to do? What to do? August looked Ikkehm up and down, sizing himself up to the towering alien. If there was one constant in the universe, it was a man’s weak point.

“Sorry about this, man, but I can’t let him take Donna,” August muttered.

As soon as Ikkehm moved in front of him, August swung his leg back, then forward with as much force as he could, getting the firm rubber of his converse sneakers right between Ikkehm’s leg without really knowing if there was actually something sensitive to hit.

Ikkehm howled, dropping his gun, and covering his privates just for his hands to collide with August’s knee as he then brought his foot down to stomp on Ikkehm’s surprisingly unprotected foot. August then swung his hand, full force, his palm hitting square against the man’s jaw.

It all happened in a fraction of a second, the result: August had a weapon he had no idea how to use drop into his hands as Ikkehm whimpered on the floor, not knowing what part of his body he should try to protect next. August’s eyebrows were invisible as they disappeared under his hair.

“Hey, Dumbo! Alien escaping with me!” Shouted Donna.

“Erm, right,” muttered August, positioning the gun into a somewhat correct position. “Hey! Fish boy!” The alien stopped, turned, and glared at August. He said, in the most demanding and sinister voice he could muster, “ _let her go_.”

The alien stared back at him. August tried to keep his gaze as hard and cold as possible, but his hand was shaking terribly, and he didn’t exactly like guns. The alien seemed to decide Donna wasn’t worth it. He released her, holding up his hands and backing away. When it seemed obvious that August wasn’t planning on shooting him, he turned and ran.

August dropped the weapon immediately as Donna came up to him, tackling him into a hug. “Oh my god, you had me scared to death!” She then slapped him on the shoulder, “never do that again! You’re worse than the Doctor, letting that alien try and take me away and what was with the gun! Were you really about to shoot him?”

“No!” August cried, rubbing at his shoulder, “never ever. I hate guns.”

“Could have fooled me.”

August gave Donna a look. From behind them, Ikkehm started laughing. “What’s so funny?” Demanded August, already put into a bad mood. He didn’t need more problems, especially from this asshole. 

Ikkehm only started to laugh harder, “you fool,” he spat, “You should have _shot_ him when you had the chance.”

“Why? Because that’s what you would have done?” August shot back.

“No,” said Ikkehm, “because now he’s going to press the self-destruct and were all going to die.” He shut his eyes then, and August wondered if he’d already died. _Had he hit him that hard?_

As if on cue the automated voice from the cargo bay came over the intercom, “Auto-destruct sequence initiated.” August cursed loudly. (“Oi, language!” Spat Donna). “Twenty-eight minutes and forty seconds. Thirty-nine. Thirty-eight—”

Uh oh. August felt his blood pumping, thoughts rushing past furiously. His stomach was twisting into a shaky lump and he hadn’t had enough time to run out all the errors from his hypothesis. Twenty-eight minutes? That wasn’t nearly enough time!

“I _told_ you this was a stupid idea!” Cried August, his voice shaky and high. “There’s no way we can get them out of here in twenty-eight minutes! What was it? Three THOUSAND? Donna, there all gonna die! It’s all gonna be my fault—”

For the second time that day, August found himself on the other end of a customary Noble slap.

“GET YOURSELF TOGETHER!” Donna screamed, “blimey you are _completely_ useless! Of course, we're not gonna be able to help them if you just stand there going mental until the ship flippin’ BLOWS!”

“Ah,” said August, strangely feeling his nerves calm, “that was actually helpful, thank you.”

“Erm, you’re welcome?”

“Right, so, twenty-eight minutes, three thousand people, we can do this, yeah?”

“Better get to it.”

They nodded and off they went. He watched Donna make her way through one of the two side doors where other captives were before August went right up to the doorway he had been at before. He gave an encouraging smile to the people behind the glass door and bars, then pressed the large red button on the glass control panel nearby. The glass door began to lift up and dropped as soon as he let go. He pressed it again and the same thing happened. When he held it; the door lifted completely.

“We have to hold them down, I think.” Shouted August to Donna.

“Gotcha!”

August turned to the people inside the cell, and motioned with his arm, “Go on, out to your left, then take a right, there’ll be a maintenance ladder. A man named Feric and a girl, Thelia will help you there. They’ve got a way to get you to a safe planet.” He kept up the litany of instructions as the crowd of captives pushed their way out of the room, Donna calling out much the same.

The older lady from the cell exited and come up to August, laying a hand on his shoulder once again. He smiled at her, but her expression was worried, but also hopeful. “Girl, you said a girl named Thelia? She is safe?”

“Yes,” said August and the lady started weeping.

“Oh, my girl. My sweet little girl.”

“You’re Thelia’s mother?” Asked August and his smile only widened. “She’s waiting for you! Down in the cargo bay, go to her.”

Thelia’s mother nodded and she gave August a hug. “Thank you,” and then she was off, blending in with the crowd. August looked on after and felt a strange sense of pleasure well up inside of him.

He resumed his instruction speech as the last of the captives in the first cell exited. As soon as it was empty, he moved to the next. It was a slow arduous process. The glass doors lifted slowly, the people pushing and fervent. The count-down to death overhead was not helping, especially with August as he felt himself growing more and more impatient.

As soon as he was done with the main room, he moved over to port side to check Donna’s progress.

“I’m almost done here!” Cried Donna over the rush of people. “I’ll get the last room, too.”

“I’ll head back to the cargo bay then, see if Feric and Thelia need any help!” August scooted through the crowds of people as quickly as he could, making his way to the cargo bay entrance and directed from there, answering questions and reassuring people as they waited in the long queue for the teleporters. August stood and watched for a moment, memorised by the process for which the clear sparkles of energy stretched the forms of these alien people and disappeared them to a whole nother planet.

“Five minutes and twenty seconds till detonation. Nineteen. Eighteen.” The automated voice continued on in the background, counting down the minutes. August dearly hoped Donna would be done soon.

“Come on, come on, come on!” August chanted loudly, jumping up and down, hoping people would get the message the countdown was sending.

It was in those last moments after everyone had made it into the transporter, August and Donna whooping and hollering in joy that something terrible happened.

Thelia was standing with her mother, Feric by their side. They were talking to each other peacefully.

“They could be a family,” said Donna, “he looks like he fits right in.” August hummed in agreement. “Do you have anyone like that? Back home, I mean? Like a girlfriend. Boyfriend?”

August smile faltered, _home_. He felt so far away from home. Automatically, his fingers went to his coat pocket. The ring wasn’t there. August’s lips drew into a thin line for a moment.

“Push this button, sir,” Feric said, “it will transport us down. However, I am not sure I am comfortable leaving the two of you—”

“We’ve got a ship.” Said August with the largest smile he could muster. “That box isn’t just a box you know.”

“Four minutes and twenty-two second remaining…” said the automated voice.

“No time to explain, on the platform you go,” August waved his hand. The small group smiled at him, getting onto the platform. “ _Energise_!” He said with a laugh.

“You complete _nerd_.” Muttered Donna.

Television deaths are never as gruesome as the real thing August discovered. Even movies with blood and guts, terrible images of decapitation and outright gore could never prepare any sane person for the real thing.

August tapped the button on the holographic display of the transporter and everything around him slowed.

There was a crackling sound in the distance, like lightning. Replaying the memory in his head he could see the bolt shooting past his ear, feel the heat radiating off his cheek even if in reality he hadn’t the time to look up from the screen.

In the next agonisingly long millisecond there was a cry, tiny, loud, and something had fallen from the transporter platform. There was more screaming. August looked up from the screen just in time to see Thelia fall and her mother and Feric disappearing into the glowing white light, zapping light-years away. Had they seen? _Did they know_? _Were they already grieving_?

When time finally returned to normal, August was staring down at the girl, not knowing what to think or feel. His face was placid.

“Oh my god!” Donna landed hard on the ground next to Thelia, “you’re going to be okay! It’s alright!” She was saying.

August turned, following the trail of sparks in the air.

“I always were a bad shot, but I won’t miss this time. Ikkehm held his gun loosely in his hand, pointing it at his own head.

“No, don’t—” August shut his eyes as a second life was taken that day.

“Two minutes and thirty seconds till detonation. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight.”

“August,” came Donna’s voice, “she’s asking for you.”

August’s breathing was heavy, his whole body shaking as he looked from Ikkehm’s dead body, then over to Thelia who was barely holding on. He came over, slow, like he wasn’t quite sure he should, and knelt down next to her.

“Hiyah,” said Thelia.

“Hello,” said August, his voice trembling.

“You still look strange,” she said, a sweet smile playing at her lips.

“So, do you,” August told her, taking her hand into his and giving it a good squeeze. Thelia laughed, but her laughter soon devolved into a coughing fit. Her expression became pained, tears welling. “Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay, you’ll be alright. Stay strong,” August bit his lip, trying to keep himself from tearing up.

“My mother, and Feric, they’re safe, right? They’re all safe?” Thelia asked.

August nodded, “yeah, course they are. They had you protecting them.”

Thelia looked so pleased at his words, with her last breath, she gave a peaceful sigh, “that’s good.”

Then she was gone. 

August began sobbing, a sudden overwhelming feeling of tiredness possessing him. He felt woozy and distant. Was this all a dream? Perhaps he was still at the convention. With Holly and Parady, laughing, joking, having a good time. Maybe the nervousness of asking Holly to marry him had gotten to him? Had he passed out so overjoyed by her reaction? Her _rejection_? Anything would be better than this, anything would be better than a senseless death or any death at all.

 _Why did he ever want this_?

“Fifty-nine seconds till detonation. Fifty-eight. Fifty-seven. Fifty-six…”

“ _August_ ,” said Donna, her voice was distant. August could barely feel her hand on his shoulder. “We _need_ to go.

* * *

Space is silent. An explosion that might destroy a human eardrum, break the sound barrier, topple buildings has no sound in space. When the _Orion’s Daemons_ third fleet slave ship detonated, the universe didn’t listen.

Trillions of pieces of the ship were launched out into the void of space, one of those being a _small blue box_.

Down on the planet below, as star showers began raining down, out of the three thousand people who had been teleported, twelve thousand, nine hundred and ninety-eight people were cheering.

Two were crying.


	9. Chapter Eight: In the TARDIS; First Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historian's Note:
> 
> For those who wish to keep up with the timeline of events, for August Keyes Series Ten has just started. For the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble, between "The Unicorn and the Wasp" and "Silence in the Library". For the Eleventh Doctor and the Ponds, it is soon after "A Christmas Carol", but before "The Impossible Astronaut".

**August shook out** of fear, of rage, of sorrow. There was so much pain in his chest as his insides ached. He had never accepted loss well, on TV or otherwise. He’d only ever been to two actual funerals, neither for someone, he knew very well. One for his great grandmother he had only met once or twice and another for an older lady he’d never met who was friends with his Dad. It was their time, they were at peace, but _Thelia_. The worst part was that the shot wasn’t meant for her. It was meant for _him_.

He had gotten a little girl killed.

What were three thousand lives to that one little girl?

* * *

It had been a few hours. August kept himself firmly planted on the jump seat; his knees held against his chest; face buried. He wasn’t really looking at anything, just staring off, thinking. Meanwhile, Donna was on the floor, sitting cross-legged, facing away from him. She didn’t know what to say or do, but she thought it was best she keep the stranger company.

Did she still think of August as a stranger? She glanced up at the boy, a completely foreign look on his face to anything the Doctor ever expressed. Something about it just… he didn’t look like the Doctor.

Donna needed the Doctor in times like these. He would have already been bouncing around the console, spouting off something about planets, times, and planets Donna had never heard of, ready for their next adventure. And she would know he wasn’t really as happy or as peppy as he seemed, but he’d take her to a space spa or something of the like and they’d both deal with their grief on their own.

As she looked at August, Donna suddenly had the overwhelming urge to sit with him and put his head on her shoulder and hold him still until he soothed and whisper urgently over and over again that everything would be alright, because the man before her wasn’t a man but a boy who was scared and afraid. He _needed_ someone, just as she did.

“Holly.”

His voice pierced the silence like a knife scraping against metal. “What?” Donna asked, turning to face him.

He looked down at her, sadness in his youthful eyes, “you asked if I had anyone back home. I have Holly.” He swallowed hard, placing his chin on his knees. “Before I was here, before I woke up in the TARDIS, at that convention I was—I was going to _propose_ to her.” He laughed, like the idea was ridiculous, “now I’m not sure if I’ll ever see her again.” He turned away from Donna, but she could hear him sniffling.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Donna tried, “you didn’t see him, you didn’t know.”

He nodded, “I know.”

“I bet she would be proud of you, saving all those people.” Donna heard him mumble what sounded like agreement, but his expression was blank.

He yawned then, and Donna felt herself beginning to yawn as well. All the adrenaline was finally beginning to drain from her body, leaving her tired and aching. She stood up, and went over to him, looping an arm around his neck. “Come on,” she offered him a hand, “why don’t we find you somewhere to get some rest. I promise you’ll feel better.”

* * *

It was a rather plain room with walls the colour of light amber and a cream carpet. There was an archway of sorts where a bunch of little plastic stars draped down over the bed. They were giving off a warm blue glow. The bed covers were nothing fancy: a simple lime green, a puffy comforter with white laced pillows and a warm yellow undersheet to go with the walls.

It looked very comfy.

“This is a whole lot nicer than my room,” muttered Donna, standing in the doorway.

“You think it’s his?” Asked August, looking about the room more. “Looks unused.” It was rather empty, with a few trinkets here and there, including a full-length mirror.

“If it is, I might just have to have a talk with him about getting a bigger bed. I know for a fact he doesn’t sleep enough to need a King size.”

“Hmmm,” murmured August in thought. He was looking at the mirror.

“What is it?” Asked Donna.

“I haven’t exactly seen my reflection yet…” He took a step towards the mirror, wondering if he really wanted to. He had some idea of what he would find, but it wasn’t exactly a normal occurrence to look into your reflection and see someone else’s face staring back at you. “What do I look like to you?” He asked, turning to Donna, his back towards the mirror.

Donna gave him a once over with her eyes, “I dunno, you look like the Doctor. All…,” she motioned with her hands, “ _skinny_.” After a momentary pause in thought, “oh, will you just look in the mirror!”

He closed his eyes, rubbed his face, breathed out slowly, then turned towards the mirror. (“You’re so overdramatic!” said Donna).

It was the Doctor, but not _quite._

August didn’t feel like he was staring at himself, but whoever was in his reflection wasn’t the Doctor either. It was like _John Smith_. The man-made from the Chameleon Arch. Whenever August had first watched _Human Nature_ , the moment John Smith was on-screen August just knew, he could feel it, perhaps because of David Tennant’s amazing acting, or perhaps because John Smith just _wasn’t the Doctor_. That’s what it felt like to stare into that mirror at the man with the same face, same sideburns, same suit; it just wasn’t him; it wasn’t the Doctor.

August didn’t know who it was.

“Are you going to be alright?” August’s eyes flitted to Donna’s reflection. She was trying to hold back a yawn.

“Yeah,” he said, watching his reflection mirror the word. He sucked in a heavy breath of air, “tired.”

“I’ll let you get some rest then,” said Donna, and when she reached the door, she turned to look at him. August could see the pity as clear as day on her face. “Goodnight, August.”

“Goodnight, Donna.”

August waited until she had closed the door to shake his whole body loose of all the tense nerves. Letting all the chills make their way down his spine, letting out all the weird mouth sounds he could. Then he plopped down on the bed, arms laid out as far as they could reach; the mattress sunk in just enough to not be uncomfortable. He could fall asleep in that very instance if he wanted to, feeling his body going numb.

Before that could happen though, he sat back up and began untying his sneakers, tossing them down on the floor, next was the two layers of socks. Why the Doctor wore two pair, he didn’t know, but it made his feet rather sweaty. New feet. August wiggled the foreign toes in the air. When they touched the plush carpet all the pain from running around on the Daemon Slave ship was forgotten; he relished the feeling.

August stood again, pattering about on the carpet as he took off his suit jacket, laying it over the golden frame of the bed, then came off the tie and he untucked his shirt. He went to pull off his trouser, thought about decency and privacy for a moment, then decided he’d have to take a shower eventually anyway so to hell with it. He would sleep in his boxers if he felt like it.

He pulled back the sheets on the bed, slowly climbing into the warm confines of the covers, loving the way it felt against his legs and feet. As he did so, the lights in the room dimmed on their own and the little plastic star lights glowed comfortably above him.

It didn’t surprise him at all when he couldn’t sleep immediately. Part of his mind was still reeling at the fact that he was currently in the TARDIS, the pale bony hand laying before him belonging to another man. His erratic thoughts jumped back and forth between two concepts: images of Donna, the TARDIS, and the Doctor off on their adventures from what seemed like such a long time ago, jumbled with the thoughts of his father, Nana, Parady, and Holly; his home in Dalery, the corner shop he worked at. His mind reeled at thoughts of the _Orion’s Daemon_.

The brilliant hull he witnessed passing through the stars, alien faces, freeing them, saving Donna, the girl…

He shook the image of the dead bodies out of his head.

He kept his eyes tightly shut as he rolled onto his back, bringing his hands up to rub at his tired eyes as he groaned.

The adult inside him was shouting at him to stop being so childish; there were horrors and awes of the Doctor’s world he had yet to imagine that could kill him on the spot with just a blink of an eye and it terrified August to a point that even his little eight-year-old self would be ashamed of. That same little boy who had spent years carrying around that silly plastic screwdriver with him, out of hope, out of a very stupid vain hope that it could protect him one day, was telling him not to ever wake up.

_Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? To be the Doctor? Why wish it all away now?_

August didn’t really have a choice, did he? He pulled up his hand to look at the faint outline in the plastic starlight before letting it plop back down on the bed with a _thump_.

He really didn’t know what he was doing here.

Out of all the people in his own universe—in both universes in fact—why him? There were a lot of other people more qualified and worthy of the position he was in. Someone smarter and braver, someone who knew the Time Lord like the back of their hand because they were so in love with the show and its characters they didn’t need to think. Someone—someone like the _Doctor_ ; Smith, Capaldi, Baker, hell— _Tennant_. The actors who _deserved_ to get to experience this for all the effort they put in, the ultra-fans, the people who had been there since the beginning.

Not August.

Not some idiot _fanboy_ from Dalery, Georgia.

There was no point in dwelling on it, if he dwelled, he would never get anything done. He was here, so no matter how little he thought he deserved it, he had to deal with it. There was still the case of the missing Doctor after all and a terrible thought crossed his mind.

_What if the Doctor was in his body?_ August shut his eyes tightly. “Mm, mm…” he murmured. If the Doctor was, there was nothing August could do to help him. He needed to worry about the here and now. Like what he and Donna were going to do. Earth would be a good place to start, there were plenty of people August could ask for help, figure out who or what had done this to him. Martha, Sarah Jane, Captain Jack, they could all help.

Perhaps it was the Master? No, it didn’t seem like his M.O. The Daleks? August didn’t want to think about the Daleks. Cyberman? Why? No, that was stupid. Maybe the Silence, then? They always seemed to have a silly idea of how to go about things, as well as contrived reasons for those silly ways, but why would they be interfering _now_?

He paused.

How _were_ they going to get to Earth?

Exhaustion began to pull at him, he could worry about it in the morning. The double thumping in his chest was beginning to slow and August stretched out on the bed, drifting off to sleep as one word echoed inside his head.

 _Doctor_.


	10. Chapter Nine: Domestic Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historian's Note:
> 
> For those who wish to keep up with the timeline of events, for August Keyes Series Ten has just started. For the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble, between "The Unicorn and the Wasp" and "Silence in the Library". For the Eleventh Doctor and the Ponds, it is soon after "A Christmas Carol", but before "The Impossible Astronaut".

**It was fairly** late into the evening (of what could be called a day in the TARDIS) when Donna awoke to a soft knock on her door. “Hm? Yeah? I’m up. What is it, Doctor?” She called, shaking her head to prevent herself from dowsing off again. She found it odd that he was even being so polite, usually, the Doctor would just barge right in, especially if she had overslept, which she felt she had.

“Mmmm,” came the Doctor’s voice, sounding just as tired and out of it as she felt, “s’not Doctor,” he said, sounding somewhat irritated by the assumption, “thought you might want breakfast? I could make bacon. Or… whatever it is you like.”

“Not Doctor?” Donna spat, all ready to get feisty with the man banging on her door, when it all came back to her in a sudden moment of clarity, “oh god, _August_ , sorry!” She called, shaking her head. This was all still so confusing, “sorry this whole thing is just a bit weird. I thought I had dreamt that whole thing for a second.”

There was a long pause, before a loud yawn came from the door, “how’d you think I felt this morning.” His American accent still gave Donna the shivers. “Anyways, breakfast?”

“Yeah, hold on, just give me a second to get decent.” She was still wearing her flapper dress from the 1920s, having been too tired to change the night before. It was now all dirty and a few of the beads have fallen off. Taking that off, she got into a pair of joggers and a tee shirt.

When she opened the door, Donna had to do a double-take.

“What?” August asked, sounding offended by her staring.

“You’ve got _legs_ ,” Donna stated, pointing with both hands as she stared at the gangly things.

August looked down to the shorts he was wearing, “doesn’t everybody?”

“Oi, don’t get cheeky, _alien boy_. There’s something fundamentally _wrong_ with the Doctor in shorts.” She brushed past him as she walked out the door, trying to hide her embarrassment. Donna didn’t know why, but it was extremely weird to her seeing that man in anything but a pinstripe suit. Shorts just didn’t look right.

“You know, I’m not an alien, Donna,” said August, walking up beside her, “I’m as human as you are… well,” he shrugged, “ _normally_.”

“You said you come from a different Earth, an Earth that’s _alien_ to _me_ , so I think it suits you proper, Mr. _Americano_.”

“Yeah, I’d rather you stick with alien boy if _that’s_ my only alternative. Anyways, what do you want for breakfast,” he said, going back to his original point, “I can do anything but eggs. Or sausages. Or—”

“—Why don’t we just have cereal? It’s simple and there’s no cooking involved?”

She entered the kitchen, a quaint place in the TARDIS. Not exceptionally large, except for the cabinets and pantry. They were, of course, bigger on the inside. Donna grabbed a box of Coco Pops from its special place in the cereal cabinet and got herself a bowl and milk.

August watched her, but it seemed like he wasn’t really paying attention to what she was doing. She paid no mind to him as he went about getting his own breakfast after she’d sat down.

Donna didn’t like how surprised she felt when August sat down across from her with his own little bowl and a cup of juice. The Doctor had never sat down to have a meal with her, not really. Maybe if Charles Dickens or Janice Joplin were at the other end of the table, but never anything as domestic as breakfast in the morning. It was nice to have someone to talk to for once. It almost made the TARDIS feel normal.

 _Almost_.

“Are you eating _dry_ cereal?” Asked Donna. “Where’s the _milk_?”

“Not on my cereal _obviously_ ,” August replied, sarcastically.

“On _your_ Earth is it normal to eat cereal dry or are you just a weirdo?”

“Actually, most people enjoy prune juice in their cereal.” At Donna’s disgusted expression he laughed, “ _kidding_. No, I’m a weirdo,” he said as he picked at the Cheerios’ with his bare hands. Donna watched in horror.

“You. Are. _Disgusting_.”

“Wait until you see me eat pancakes.”

“Ew, what about all the syrup? Don’t your fingers get all sticky?” August raised an eyebrow at her. Despite herself, Donna laughed, “oh lemme guess. No syrup, right? Are you _absolutely_ sure you’re not an alien?” She teased him.

“ _Ninety-nine_ percent sure.” He gave her a coy smirk. Donna returned it with a soft smile of her own.

“Which reminds me, you promised you’d explain that TV show of yours. What did you call it? Doctor _What?_ ”

“ _Doctor Who_ ,” said August, “what do you want to know?”

“Well,” Donna began, “you knew about the Adipose and the giant spider lady. What else do you know?”

August leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed, “you were wearing that dress from the 1920s when I woke up, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Then you just met Agatha Christie, right? With that giant wasp and the firestone and all that?”

Donna nodded, “yeah, the Doctor was just showing me that book she wrote. What was it? _Death in the Clouds_? Yeah, copyright year five billion. Mighty impressive that bit was.” She took a sip of her orange juice. “Mind you, I don’t remember much after that… the Doctor mentioned something about a _Library…_ must’ve passed out or something.”

August gave her a curious look, then seemed absorbed in his own thoughts for a moment. “Yeah…” He took in a large breath of air, “yeah so basically everything before that I know. Pompeii, the Ood Sphere, all that stuff.” He waved his hand as if that was explanation enough.

“And is that it? Just all of my bits with the Doctor?”

“Oh no, your adventures with the Doctor are only one series. There’s one with Martha, two with Rose—”

“—You know about Rose?”

August bit his lip like he had said too much. Having finished his cereal, he stood to put it into the sink. “I’d rather you not ask me about it, Donna.”

“Why not?” Asked Donna, getting to her feet as well, “I’m just curious, the Doctor will talk all about Martha, but he never talks about Rose.”

“Well, that’s exactly it,” August leaned against the sink, his arms crossed, “there are a lot of things about the Doctor, about his past companions, that I could tell you, but it’s a little tricky to know what I can and can’t say. I don’t want to be the reason the timeline gets all… _wibbly_.” He sighed, “there are things I know that the Doctor doesn’t even know, not this Doctor, not now.”

Donna made a face, “ _not now_? What do you mean? Do you know the _future_?” August made that face again, the face that said he’d said too much. “You said I only got one series, what does _that_ mean?”

“Donna—”

“Am I gone in the future? Where do I go? What happens? What—”

August grabbed Donna by the shoulders, “—Donna.” He said seriously, “I _can’t_ tell you. You’ve got to understand that. You want to know about my universe? You want to know how I know you? I’ve got answers, but not about your _own_ future. Got it?”

Donna gave him a scrutinizing glare. “Got it.”

“Good.” August turned back to the sink, washing out his bowl and cup. He took Donna’s from her hands and washed those as well. She could tell it was more of a distraction from the tension she’d caused.

“Are you from the future?”

“Yes.”

“What’s it like?”

“Donna…” muttered August.

Donna held up her hands in a backing off motion, “right, sorry. You continue with your _dish_ cleaning.”

After breakfast was over, Donna went back to her bedroom to clean up properly. After a _long_ , hot shower, she put on her favourite blouse, jacket and a pair of jeans then went to meet August in the control room where he said he’d be after he’d finished his own shower.

They both agreed that floating through space endlessly was not a good start into their search for the Doctor (or as August had said, the search for the cause of the swap, as actually locating the Doctor would be tricky), lest they get picked up by more of the _Orion’s Daemons_. Earth was the agreement, they could find Martha, or someone called _Jack_ , who could help them find a starting point as to what had happened. Getting there was going to be a whole ‘nother issue.

When she entered the room, August was already there, sitting on the jump seat with his legs (now properly covered back in the Doctor’s brown pinstripe), propped up on the console, the Doctor’s specs upon his nose, and book in his hands.

“What’s that, then?” Donna asked, gesturing to the book.

“TARDIS console manual,” he said, closing the book, “appeared on my bed when I got out of the shower.” He pulled off the specs and looked them over, “you know, I thought he just wore these for show, but the Doctor _really_ is far-sighted.”

“Does it tell you how to fly the TARDIS?” Asked Donna, ignoring his musings.

“No idea, it’s all written in Gallifreyan and the TARDIS won’t translate.” He threw the book to the floor as he stood, “I was hoping if I stared at it long enough, it might start to make sense.”

“So, what now?”

“I dunno.” August sighed, crossing his arms. “We could wait.”

“You could start pressing buttons.”

“Fat lot of good that will do,” August sat up in the jump seat, looking over the controls of the TARDIS, “any one of these buttons could be a self-destruct, or a secret weapon to destroy the universe, something to suck all the oxygen out of the room…et cetera.”

“Well you sure are Mr. Positivity, aren’t you?” Donna said. She looked over the console controls herself, remembering when the Doctor had taught her to fly it… somewhat. She had been confident then, but now, without him as support, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to try it again.

“Oh! Wait,” said August, looking incredibly happy with himself, “the Doctor taught you to fly the TARDIS, didn’t he?

Of course, he would know that August seemed to know everything, “only once,” said Donna.

“It was a good once.” August refuted, “you remember any of the controls?”

“A few. Not very well. Hey, how come you don’t know any of the controls? I’d of thought with all you spout off you’d at least know how to get us out of space. Don’t all those sci-fi shows usually have _fan manuals_ and _diagrams_ for all the fancy spacecrafts?”

August sucked in air through his teeth. “Yeah, sometimes, but I’ve never found one—and trust me I’ve looked. About all I know is the _helmic regulator_.” He pointed to the odd-looking bicycle pump on the console.

“That ones for… _accuracy_. Right?” Donna asked, remembering bits and pieces of what the Doctor had taught her, however brief.

“Accuracy of travel through the Time Vortex,” August nodded knowingly, “can cause a flight to the moon to end up on a space station thousands of years later if not handled correctly,” he looked off, “good old Sullivan, that was a great episode…”

“See, you know that. Yet the rest of this is complete madness to you?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” August leaned back in the jump seat, a long sigh escaping his lips.

Donna rolled her eyes. To give the boy credit, he had been pretty useful on the spaceship, nervous, but his idea worked. It wasn’t like August was of the bad sort either, he seemed kind and generous and caring enough, but _God_ how much of a _quitter_ was he? He wouldn’t have even voiced his idea on the ship had Donna not pushed him to cause he’d already resigned it to failure. They hadn’t even tried anything proper yet and he seemed to have already given up on the idea of ever getting anywhere in the TARDIS.

“Well, if you aren’t going to start pressing buttons, then I am.” She pushed the lever closet to her before August could react.

The TARDIS began to shake violently. Donna grabbed at the console, barely managing to stop herself from falling flat on her face, ‘what do you think that was then?” She asked, looking at August around the shaking console.

“I would wager the handbrake,” he shouted, holding onto the jump seat for dear life. “Would you put it back on?!”

Donna flipped the lever again, and the shaking stopped as abruptly as it had started. “Sorry,” she said, “but we’re never gonna get anywhere if you just sit there moping about it, instead of actually doing something.”

August nodded solemnly, “right, I know. I just, it would be very bad for the universe if I got us killed trying to fly the TARDIS.”

“Then _don’t_.” Said Donna.

August looked at her very seriously for a moment. Donna wasn’t quite sure what he was thinking, perhaps he thought her an idiot for suggesting they just fly the TARDIS without the Doctor. She was about to return the look with her own when he suddenly smiled at her.

“I just need to try, right? No harm in trying?” He stood properly, looking down at the console with an analytic gaze. “I’m good with computers, the TARDIS is basically one those just a lot bigger.”

“I’ll help you,” said Donna, putting her hand on his shoulder. 

He smiled at her. “Right,” he rubbed his hands nervously and pushed a button.

He waited, Donna waited, nothing happened.

They both breathed.

When he pulled a lever down, it sprung right back up to where it had been. “Er,” August said, glancing at Donna, “mind holding that down?”

Donna held the lever down. August gave her another lever to hold, this time in an upwards position. She watched as he pushed another couple of buttons, turned a dial or three, watching for changes on the TARDIS monitor. He asked her to flip a couple more switches, pressed a few buttons until he was satisfied that whatever he was looking at on the monitor seemed right.

Although ten times slower paced, the whole process felt awfully familiar to Donna.

Holding one button-down with his left foot, he half-hoped, half-reached around the console towards the handbrake. “Ready?” He asked Donna.

She let out a long breath. “Not really,” she admitted.

“Me either,” he agreed and pulled the lever without a second thought.

The shaking resumed almost immediately. August almost managed to fall over, but hung onto the console, barely managing to keep his precarious position as the time rotor in the centre went up and down, up, and down. Donna thought he was doing quite well for his first time.

She spoke too soon though as the TARDIS made an ear-raping sound like metal grinding against concrete and August was thrown backwards, landing square on his back.

There was a lot of colourful language from August that Donna could barely hear over the sound of some bell from within the TARDIS sounding off. She dared not move from her position.

“What’s going on!?” Shouted Donna, “what did you DO?!”

“I DUNNO!” August shouted back, “I told you this was a bad idea!” He sounded properly panicked, “that’s the _cloister bell_ which is _very_ bad for the universe!”

“We have to land eventually, right?”

“But who knows where we’ll end up!”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historian's Note:
> 
> For those who wish to keep up with the timeline of events, for August Keyes Series Ten has just started. For the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble, between "The Unicorn and the Wasp" and "Silence in the Library". For the Eleventh Doctor and the Ponds, it is soon after "A Christmas Carol", but before "The Impossible Astronaut".

**August stumbled out** of the TARDIS followed by an unhealthy amount of billowing black smoke. Coughing, he leaned against an obliging wall. His hair was a mess, the long tan coat of the Doctor only half on and smudged with what looked like soot. He was immediately followed by Donna, who was holding the sleeve of her brown jacket over her mouth and nose in an attempt to filter the air.

"That—" a cough, "was complete—" more coughing.

"Rubbish," snapped Donna, even more irritated than August was. "What was all that about? I've never seen something like that happen before." When all Donna got in reply was more coughing, she went over to him. His face was turning bright red. "Are you alright?" She asked, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Fine, that was odd, the TARDIS never does that unless something really bad has happened." August laid a hand on the TARDIS's wooden finish, feeling her vibrations under his touch. A chill passed through his spine and he pulled away. "Where did we end up, anyway?" He asked Donna.

"Looks like London," she said, "but I don't remember _that_." Donna pointed towards what looked an awful lot like the _London Eye_ , except, it was hovering. As in, there was the _London Eye_ , but instead of being held down on its axel to spin like any other Ferris Wheel it was quite literally hovering off from the ground, spinning on nothing.

" _Future_ London," August overenunciated, manoeuvring his other arm into the free sleeve of the coat. "At least we actually made it to earth, what year do you think it is?" He turned, "oh! Robots!"

Indeed, about half a mile from where the TARDIS had landed was a robot—also hovering—above a small platform. No legs, just a torso, arms, and a head. It seemed to be some type of tour guide. There was a group of people standing around it as the robot was gesturing across the Thames to the London Eye itself.

August rushed off, Donna sighing, but following.

* * *

A few blocks down the street and through a narrow alleyway, a sudden gust of wind began to play with the snow on the ground. A woman in passing had to hold her skirt down and a little boy lost the page of a book he'd been reading from. If any of them were paying more attention to their surroundings, they would have also heard the soft wheezing, groaning sound. Out of thin air, a _box_ started to materialise, a bright, brilliant, blue with a clean finish. It solidified in the street corner. A second later the right door opened, and a pretty young ginger woman popped her head out excitedly, only to frown in disappointment.

"Ugh, _London_ ," groaned Amelia Pond—or just _Amy_ , as most called her nowadays. She stepped out of the box fully and crossed her arms, "this better be some sort of future London, Doctor," she said, looking towards the gangly man as he stepped out of the box, Rory following behind.

"2120," said the Doctor, "anti-grav is on the rise, as well as robots. Not highly intelligent as of right now, poor things, but they do have a good sense of humour. Speaking of which, there's one now, hello!" The Doctor bounded up to a robot, smiling at it, "you are a _beautiful_ piece of machinery, rudimentary, but beautiful!"

"Is the London Eye _floating_?" Asked Amy.

"Like I said, anti-grav. You humans and your _fads_. Eventually you lot will realise it's not as fancy or easy as you would think to keep up a world where everything's floating, especially once you lose, _Westminster_. Sad day," He paused, wringing out his hands, "my fault really, the whole place was infested with a terribly angry lot of _Vashta Nerada._ Though I will say, anti-grav restaurants are probably one of the _coolest_ inventions you ever develop," he adjusted his bowtie, "it really goes downhill when the food becomes _virtual_ in the next few centuries. Anyways," the Doctor clapped his hands, spinning on his heels to face his companions, "anything in particular that you want to see?"

"What about that anti-grav restaurant?" Amy asked immediately, her eyes sparkling with excitement. The Doctor always managed to make even the dullest places seem interesting.

He smiled at her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, "great idea, I know this brilliant little place near London Tower…"

"Erm, Doctor?" Rory interrupted, "I think there's something you ought to see."

"Oh, what could be so important—" The Doctor turned and stopped dead.

Framing the view of the London Eye in the distance there was a _blue box_ sitting near the Thames. It was a darker blue than his, bits and pieces of the paint were chipping away. Its windows glowed a dull yellow colour. There was a sickeningly familiar man standing in front of the doorway with his hands in his pockets, a cheeky smile on his lips, and solemn dark eyes. He was talking with a ginger woman

The Doctor frowned, looking in the direction they had come from, and then to the box again. "What?" He said, "but I don't—" he smiled, then frowned, the smiled again, before deciding on a frown. "This isn't right. I didn't, I mean, I wasn't—why wouldn't I—" He stopped, a million possibilities running through his head. _They shouldn't be here_. Was mainly what his brain was shouting at him. _The TARDIS knows to avoid itself_.

Amy's eyes flicked between the blue box across the street and the Doctor. "Doctor…?" She questioned.

"What's going on?" Asked Rory.

"I don't remember this." The Doctor finally said, his eyes darting about as though searching for some miraculous means of escape. " _How_ can I not remember this? I don't remember this! London 2120. Nothing special, _nothing_ , absolutely _nothing_ special, mediocre year at best." He began pacing.

"What's there to remember?" Asked Rory in that tone of his that made the Doctor roll his eyes as he ignored the nurse.

It didn't have to be ominous; maybe he'd just hit his head after he'd left… or something. There were several times where he'd met himself and had no memory of it. The Doctor thumped his head with the palm of his hand in aggravation, trying to get his brain to cooperate. Even those times he'd started to remember soon after seeing himself, but if he couldn't remember at all… he shouldn't stay, because timelines, and branching paths, and a whole bunch of really bad, universe ending, timey wimey—

"Doctor," Amy's voice was soft and curious.

His eyes focused on Amy's face. She didn't look scared, neither did Rory. So, who was scared? Someone was scared. Ah, he was scared! Frightened of the possibilities that _Captain Swagger_ and the brilliant _Donna Noble_ held. He looked towards them, watching as something caught the man's eye and she followed reluctantly. He had no idea what they were talking about, not any idea and that scared him, because usually by now he would.

"Doctor, what's wrong?" Said Amy, and now she did sound scared.

The Doctor reached forward to grasp her shoulder.

"We need to leave."

* * *

"The London Eye was built in 1999 to celebrate the new millennium," the robot was explaining as August and Donna neared, "The 32 capsules of the Eye are symbolic of London's original 32 boroughs. Although the capsules are labelled 1 to 33, there is no carriage 13 for good luck. Originally prided on its distinct support of only one side, unlike traditional Ferris wheels, the London Eye has now become well known for being the first landmark to convert to anti-grav technologies back at the beginning of the 22nd century."

"22nd century?" Whispered Donna, "how far in do you reckon we are?"

"Dunno," said August, "probably sometime before the—hmmm, fifties?" He turned away from the tour group, realising he wasn't going to a closer look at the robot. Disappointing really.

"And you can just _tell?_ " Asked Donna.

" _The Dalek Invasion of Earth_ ," said August, rubbing at his eye as he ran through as many episodes of _Doctor Who_ in his head as he could remember. "I _think_ that took place during the 22nd century…"

"What's a Dalek?"

"It's really not that important," August didn't really want to think about the Daleks, or what the chances of running into one would be. The last thing he needed were the Daleks; and he thought then about the Doctor lighting up in a greenish tint of brilliant light and the horrors that were found at the _Journey's End_. The future. He blinked, shaking the chills away.

"You said _invasion of Earth_ and that's not something I should be worried about?"

"Look, really, it doesn't matter," and he laughed then, cause time travel, "the Doctor's sort of already handled it." He smiled at Donna impishly. "Anyways, where to first?" He looked around the environment excitedly as they entered an area full of food stalls.

Donna did not look so pleased, stopping, "uh, excuse me, but I thought we were going to find someone who could help us figure out this mess," she drew her finger up and down his body, "not go _touring_."

"What's the trouble with a little sight-seeing round old London Town," August asked, putting on his best impression of an English accent.

"Don't do that," said Donna, voice going soft, yet hard, " _really_ don't."

August faltered, "ah, sorry." He cleared his throat, "Well, I can't think of anyone in the 22nd century that could help us. Do you have any suggestions?"

A few blocks away there was a loud cry, "what're you doing?!" Said a girl, screaming louder, "get off me! Somebody help!"

The Time Travellers' heads snapped in the direction it had come from, then to each other.

Donna shrugged, "that sounds like as good a suggestion as any."

* * *

"Wait, Doctor. What's another TARDIS doing here?" Amy questioned. "Why does it look different? Who _were_ those people?" The Doctor ignored her questions. " _Doctor!_ " Amy snapped, practically running to keep up with his brisk, long-legged walk. Amy came to stand in front of his path. "Who is _he_? Who is _she?_ What were they doing with the _TARDIS_? Haven't I seen his face before?" She paused in thought. "the Atraxi, they showed all those faces, that man was one of _them_ , wasn't he? Who were they?"

"Look," said the Doctor, side-stepping around Amy, "it's complicated, I don't have time to explain."

Amy wasn't about to give up so easily, she knew she was onto something big. When she'd met the Doctor for the second time, once she'd grown up, aliens had come from the sky, threatening to torch the planet. The Doctor, defending Earth like she would go on to find out he did often, had asked the Atraxi if Earth was protected. A dozen faces, young and old, some odd and some handsome had flashed across the holographic screen before the Doctor had stepped forward and declared himself Earth's protector.

 _He's the Doctor_ , _so who were they_?

"Is he like… another _Doctor_ or something?" Amy threw out with a laugh. The idea was ridiculous. There was only one Doctor, but he winced. Amy noticed and she went pale.

"I was joking." She stated, "that's completely—I mean, he's not YOU, is he?" He still wasn't answering. "Doctor," Amy said seriously, "tell me that man back there isn't _you_."

"He's not!" Rory put in, struggling to stay alongside the other two on the busy sidewalk. He sounded like he was struggling to hang onto the thread of the conversation. "It's probably just a title, or something. Something that gets passed down between Time Lords. Like… 'Father' for priests."

The Doctor blinked, and looked towards Rory, a grin on his face, "that makes sense; well done, Rory!"

Amy pursed her lips, eyes hard. "Is that true?"

"Sort of…" he replied enigmatically. "Oh, look! Bananas!" Delighted, he took one of the fruits from a tall pile of similar produce filling up the street venders many fruit baskets. He picked it up and continued on, peeling it with an easy, practiced movement.

"Are you just going to take that?" Rory asked, indignant, but the vendor didn't seem to even notice. Which was rather odd, thought Amy, but she was more concerned with the Doctor at the moment.

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" Amy snapped. "I _know_ when you're _hiding_ something, Doctor, and it's never the easy answer with you." Those eyes of her were narrowed into dangerous slits.

"Your face will get stuck that way if you're not careful." The Doctor told her seriously. He then gave Rory and rather smug little smile before taking an enormous bite out of the banana.

He spat it right back out.

"Rubbish," he muttered, tossing the rest of the fruit right into a trashcan in passing.

He straightened his bowtie and went on walking as if he hadn't done something that odd, which was usually his way, but Amy watched him with a curious, intent expression. She never understood why the Doctor would act like he loved all sorts of foods, but as some as he ate anything his reaction was if he completely despised them. It didn't make any sense.

 _Early days_ , he'd said. _New face, Brand new me_. It was all starting to come together for Amy. She looked back the way they'd come, and then back at the Doctor with an even more scrutinizing glare.

"How come you didn't know that you wouldn't like apples? Or yoghurt," she didn't let him reply, "or bacon, or beans, or bread and butter, OR _bananas_." Her face was challenging, but there was also an excited, feverish light in those lovely eyes; she was positive that she was seconds away from answering a question she'd had for _years._ "You said," she continued slowly, "that it was a 'whole new mouth'."

"Amy," began Rory. He reached out to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off.

"That wasn't just a figure of speech, was it? He's not just some other Doctor, he's _literally_ you—"

"In here," the Doctor said abruptly, grabbing both of them by the shoulders and steering them into a little alley that was the easiest thing to miss on the street, especially since it was surrounded by such colourful little shops.

"What are you—" began Amy. The Doctor shushed her at once.

"But—" Rory started. He quieted as the Doctor gave him an irritated look before turning back to watch the street intently. They could hear the man and his companion, about a block away.

A minute or so later, he came into view, followed by the ginger woman. Amy could pick up bits and pieces of what they were saying. She heard _Daleks_ , a felt herself grow tense. Why would they be talking about Daleks? They were about to pass by when the woman stopped, looking not at all happy with the man.

Amy gasped sharply when he looked in their direction; the Doctor clapped his hand over her mouth. He hadn't seemed to notice them, too wrapped up in whatever was going on between him and his companion.

When a sharp cry startled the trio, the Doctor made sure his companions stayed where they were as the other him and Donna Noble ran off. He watched as they crossed the street and went out of sight, feeling Amy Pond glaring down his backside.

There was a lot of explaining he would have to do eventually, but now definitely wasn't the time.


	12. Chapter Eleven: Dickie Bow and the Ponds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historian's Note:
> 
> For those who wish to keep up with the timeline of events, for August Keyes Series Ten has just started. For the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble, between "The Unicorn and the Wasp" and "Silence in the Library". For the Eleventh Doctor and the Ponds, it is soon after "A Christmas Carol", but before "The Impossible Astronaut".

**Donna and August** were off, making their way around shops and groups of people, passing wide assortments of fruit and vegetable stands. The shouts and screams of a girl struggling for her life carried them across the London of 2120. August found, that in the Doctor's body, he was much more agile than he had been before, normally he would have felt tired after running for a few minutes, but right now his blood was pumping adrenaline rushing. He could see why the Doctor enjoyed running so much, it was exhilarating to do when in fit condition.

As he was running though, he began to notice that not a single person on the street seemed to care much that someone was screaming for their life. Everyone just went about doing their business, they didn't even really pay any mind to him or Donna either. August even purposely knocked into at least two people and they didn't flinch. Something to worry about later, right now someone was in trouble and August began to wonder when he'd decided to be a hero.

August skidded to halt in front of an alley, Donna running straight into him. The screaming was growing faint, but it was definitely coming from down the tight space between the buildings.

"Down here!" August said, picking up pace again as he ran through the alley. Just as he was turning back out onto the street, August saw her, the girl who had been screaming. She was unconscious; being carried off towards a warehouse in the distance. They were hard to see through the crowd of people blocking the way. August tried to get a good look over everyone, but after a moment the girl and her captor disappeared from his view. He had some idea of the direction they were headed.

"Donna, I think—" August turned to find himself surrounded, knives and the like being shoved into his face. He held his hands up, his eyes flickering throughout the indifferent crowd for any signs of Donna.

"Unprocessed human located," a young woman holding a rather large kitchen knife threateningly at him mumbled, "you will come with us to be processed."

"Um, well, I don't think I really have time for that or the _desire_. So, I'll have to decline." August turned around, only to be met by another woman and man who held broken soda bottles at him menacingly. He noticed though, just how vacant their eyes were as if they weren't quite all there. "No chance of letting me go, eh?" He asked with a forced laugh.

"You will be _judged_." Said the man.

"Yeah, don't think so," August shouldered his way through him, which wasn't as nearly as hard as he expected it to be as the man fell like a ragdoll. August made a break for it, his eyes searched widely around for his lost companion. He saw her, struggling against the hands of what looked like two very beefy construction workers. "Donna!" He cried, worry, and concern lacing his voice, "DON—AH!"

There was an ugly crack and a white flash of sharp pain. August felt his knees buckle, and then everything abruptly went utterly black. He heard voices, but they sounded far away; almost… echo-y. Echoie? Was that even a word? Probably not. Anyway, people were talking, and whatever they were saying sounded pretty important. Definitely something that could be imperative to figuring out what had gone wrong with 2120 London, so it seemed especially important that he get the lights working again. But he was rather tired. Maybe if he could just take a nap, just for… just for a short while…

* * *

"Right. So, we're going to double around and head back to the TARDIS."

Amy peeled The Doctor's hand off her face and pushed it away, " _someone_ out there is screaming for help, and you're just going to _ignore it_? Why?" She growled.

Oh, he didn't want to ignore it. He desperately didn't, but ever since they'd rebooted the universe, any event that had the possibility of unravelling the stitches within the seams of the universe was probably best avoided. Running into himself, especially for an event he had no memory of (not even a sliver, really, and it was getting quite worrying), was one of those things that could require _Big Bang Three_. The Doctor knew the other Doctor could take care of it; this wasn't _his_ problem.

"If you don't explain _right now_ , Doctor, I _will_ go after them and get _answers_ ," Amy stated, firmly.

The Doctor whirled on Amy, feeling a desperate need to strangle her, but instead, he decided to grip her shoulders tightly. "That was me," he told her calmly, "and if you run after them, everything we did to stop the universe from destroying itself will become moot, so please Amelia Pond, _leave. It._ " He turned without another word and started walking back the way they'd come, his harsh demeanour suddenly turned to a cheerful whistling as soon as he was out on the street.

Rory was sputtering incoherently. "But—How can _he_ be you? He can't— _who_ —HOW can he be you? What does that mean, that he _is_ you?" The Doctor was completely ignoring him of course. "Doctor! We have a right to know! You can't just say something like that and then—then…" He made a sharp, helpless gesture to fill in for the word that he couldn't quite seem to spit out.

" _WHISTLE_." Amy finished sharply.

He glanced over at the irate couple and reluctantly stopped whistling. "Well, normally I'm not much for _Wagner_ myself," he admitted, "but—"

" _Wagner_ isn't the point!" Amy looked like she was close to physically lashing out at him. She was so frustrated. "I get that you don't want the universe imploding, again, but you've got to at least explain so we can understand. How can that man—back there—be you!" She sounded desperate and scared. Many faces he'd travelled with popped into his head; namely the looks of utter panic on their faces as the Doctor they knew… _changed_.

The Doctor sighed. "There's this process…" he started, but he really didn't feel like explaining _regeneration_. It was easier when they could just see it _happen_. The after and before were so different, it was hard for any human to wrap there head around it. "Look, just think of him as my last… _incarnation_."

" _Incarnation_ ," said Amy dryly, "what, like the Dalai Lama?"

"Here we go," the Doctor muttered. "Look, he's somebody from my past that I shouldn't cross time streams with. It's trouble waiting to happen," he sighed, rubbing at his forehead, "no, we just can't afford to take the chance. _Alright_?" The last word had a bit of a sharp undertone, but that couldn't be helped; he was tired of talking about this. He didn't want to think about… things—things that could collapse the universe. He just wanted to get back to the TARDIS and possibly get something to eat, perhaps sushi.

Was that really so much to ask?

"You have _incarnations_?" Rory asked, scepticism lightly lacing his words. "What does that mean, exactly. You die, and another you replaces… you?"

"What does it _mean_ to be a Time Lord exactly?" Amy put in.

The Doctor hesitated, running a hand through all that ridiculous hair, and thought. Maybe he ought to just tell them.

There was a second sharp cry this time coming from a familiar voice— _Donna Noble_. The Doctor spun on his heels in the direction it had come from, hearing _that_ Doctor's voice shouting for his companion. Again, no one in the streets seemed to be paying any attention, not even the police seemed to care.

Oh.

He was being so _thick_.

"Ah! Stupid, stupid, Doctor," he slapped himself on the forehead several times, walking in a circle, "the people, look at the people, somethings wrong with them, _what's_ wrong with them?"

"They're _ignoring_ others in trouble, just like you," said Rory curtly.

It was true, not one head had turned at all, not one. No one was looking, no one was caring, they just kept on. Kept on like everything was perfectly ordinary.

"Correct, Mr. Pond," began the Doctor, "which isn't normal, not at all, because there's no way in all these thousands of people that no one—not a single one—would _care_."

"So, are we going to do something now? Or are you just going to let _him_ handle it?"

" _Don't you touch him, you zombie rejects!"_ Donna's voice, frightened and struggling gave the Doctor the push he needed.

The Doctor began running, following the sounds of Donna's cries, down an alleyway, through of which he saw his younger self sprawled out across the ground. His face was turned away from them, but the Doctor thought he was probably unconscious. Fantastic. Then there were…

Humans, about eight of them, surrounding his past selves' body. Two of them were holding some sort of machine over that Doctor, the others were holding all sorts of pointy things, _probably for stabbing_. In the distance, he could see Donna, her hands gripped tightly behind her back being led off by a group of construction workers.

The whole scene was quite shocking and not at all comforting given the fact that the Doctor still couldn't recall any of it. Well, now why would he when ole' Captain Swagger was sleeping on the job.

The Doctor pulled out his screwdriver, tossing it in the air. "Alrighty then, all of London in trouble, very _him_ , very _me_. Getting knocked unconscious. Very him. I don't do that sort of thing. Ponds," he pointed to them with his screwdriver, "on my signal, you two are going to go a grab the unconscious bloke. Then you run and hide. Do not, under any circumstance, come out. Period. I'll find you. Rory," he added, his words clipped, business-like, "make sure she doesn't come out."

Rory, looking rather stunned, nodded uncertainly.

"What's the signal?" Asked Amy.

The Doctor flicked his screwdriver open with a grin, "you won't miss it."

She automatically smiled back at him, hers so much brighter than his. She trusted him more than he trusted himself.

Taking a deep breath, The Doctor ducked out of the alleyway behind the food stalls. The venders didn't notice him, _programmed not to care_ , the Doctor realised. He fiddled with the settings on his screwdriver a moment. Something that could momentarily disrupt a low-level telepathic control field. The screwdriver buzzed awkwardly, causing the Doctor to frown, _interference_ , he'd have to worry about that later. He waited a few seconds, then jumped up; extending his screwdriver arm into the air.

"Oi! Look over here!" He shouted, pressing the button on his screwdriver. The tip lit up, but there was no noise. For a moment it didn't look like anything was happening, but then the street irrupted with screams of pain as all the humans who had been completely stone-faced before buckled to their knees. Those surrounding his past self dropped the device they'd been holding to cover their ears in pain, and it shattered when it hit the ground.

"NOW!" The Doctor shouted, ducking through the crowd at breakneck speed as few had already begun to stand again, looking quite angry. He ran towards the direction he'd seen Donna being taken, hoping dearly they hadn't gotten to her already. Whoever _they_ were.


	13. Chapter Twelve: Mind Numb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historian's Note:
> 
> For those who wish to keep up with the timeline of events, for August Keyes Series Ten has just started. For the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble, between "The Unicorn and the Wasp" and "Silence in the Library". For the Eleventh Doctor and the Ponds, it is soon after "A Christmas Carol", but before "The Impossible Astronaut".

**Amy thought her** lungs were on fire, which really made pulling air into them at the rate that she currently was a stupid thing to do. She tried to keep her breathing quiet, at any rate. She had pressed herself against the smooth, stone-like surface of the buildings down the street to try and keep out of sight. Her eyes were very wide, her face white, and her lips were pressed into a tight, serious little line. She felt that if she relaxed, her self-control would break down completely. She didn't like this. Not one bit.

"Amy," Rory's strained whisper sounded stiflingly close. Amy waved a hand at him without turning to look, she was _trying to listen!_ The least he could do was be _quiet_! "Amy!" He said again, more urgently.

"Rory, shut _it_!" She hissed. Her fingers curled cautiously around the corner of the building. When that garnered no reaction, she carefully peeked out, displaying the top left part of her very ginger head and her left eye to the street at large.

Nobody seemed to notice. The roads were filled with people. The majority had gone about normal business as if nothing had happened a short while ago when the Doctor had caused an uproar. They had all simply gone back to business, shopping, selling, walking, whatever it was they were doing before.

The group of those with all the knives and other sharp bits had gone after the Doctor, but the crowd had stayed behind and were now in the streets, sweeping by in a careful, systematic way that somehow put Amy in mind of military documentary programmes. There wasn't any talking, or signs that they were communicating amongst themselves; there weren't any pauses. It was all too coordinated for Amy's liking. They were… almost like _robots_ , or _zombies_ , or something. It was eerie.

"Amy!" Rory's voice had gained an edge of clear desperation, and she looked back automatically. He was sagging under the dead-weight of the unconscious bloke draped over his feet, his face lined with the strain of remaining upright. She could see his arms shaking. "I can't do this for much longer, he is _a lot_ heavier than he looks."

One of Amy's eyebrows quirked. "Maybe you should work out more." He blinked, but before he could voice his objections to that little suggestion, she continued, completely serious once again. "We _can't_ stay here; I'm waiting for a chance to get to the next alley way. They don't seem to pass down any of them, I wonder why…"

"Alright," Rory said. His voice lacked comprehension. His face showed both quiet frustration and impatience. "So, what's the hold up?"

"It's almost like their being controlled," Amy growled shortly, turning back to watch the street, "they're too organised." It wasn't like these people were military or police. They were just ordinary people keeping in time as they marched. Not one of them seemed to blink, or turn their head, it was all controlled, locked down.

"Great," Rory muttered sarcastically, "what is it this time? Brain washing? Mind control? Where's the alien causing all this?"

Amy turned to glare at him with tiger-like eyes. "SHH!"

He shh'ed.

About a minute or so after that, Amy thought she saw a window through the crowd, which was good; the searchers were getting entirely too close to their little alleyway. She touched Rory's arm, getting his attention, and then gestured across the street. He, needless to say, did not need telling twice, and they slipped across the smokey street with surprising silence and speed. Well, _Amy_ slipped; Rory's movements lacked the necessary grace for that adjective.

She shot him an impatient look, waving her hand widely to tell him to hurry up. The next moment, all three of them had slipped back into the shadows on the other side of the street.

It only took a few minutes more to find an unlocked, rather shabby little flower shop and get themselves and their unconscious charge inside. Amy glanced around at every corner. It seemed to be abandoned on all fronts, left unmanned in the middle of store hours. The sign on the front said open, she flipped it to close.

"I hope he doesn't have a concussion." Came Rory's quiet voice, filled with subtle tension and not-so-subtle concern. Amy turned around to look at her husband as he carefully lowered the stranger to the floor and propped up his head with a florist's apron from the front counter.

Amy lowered herself gingerly to her knees, her eyes on the unconscious man's sharp, somewhat delicate features, currently completely relaxed in the way that only the deeply asleep ever could be. It was funny; she hadn't thought that much of him before, but like this he really was…

She cleared her throat, "so, how do you tell?" She asked quickly. There wasn't an immediate answer, so she looked up at Rory, her eyebrows going up and her expression innocent. He looked suspicious, and not a little annoyed. She blinked at him, long eyelashes fluttering perhaps a shade more then they absolutely had to. "If he had a concussion?" She clarified.

"Amy…" he began flatly.

Her expression grew more—and at the same time less—innocent. "What? I'm just asking."

He pursed his lips, looking unconvinced, then looked back down at his patient, at the same time reaching back to pull something out of his pocket. "He'll probably have blood or fluid in his ears if he's got one." He said finally. Rory took hold of the man's chin to turn his head carefully from side to side, checking said ears. "Looks…" he began slowly, "alright there."

Bringing up the pen light he'd pulled from his pocket, Rory peeled up the man's left eyelid and shone the bright little point into his eye. Then he frowned, closed the eye, and tried the other one. "That's odd…" He said slowly.

"What is?" Amy asked, perhaps too quickly. She didn't know this man after all. Even if he was—which she wasn't so sure she believed. _At all_. The Doctor lied constantly; how was she supposed to believe him this time?

Rory, shining the light into the right eye, let it close as well, his uncertain frown deepening as he clicked the pin light off. "Well, his pupils aren't dilating…"

"And that's… weird?" Amy asked, uncertainly.

"Yeah," Rory informed her. He rolled back onto his heels before rising to his feet. His eyes stayed on the still, lean figure before rising. "It means that his eyes aren't working… _at all_. Blind eyes don't react to light, and neither do—neither do _dead eyes_."

Amy looked down at the man beside her and carefully reached out a finger to brush the light laugh lines in the corner of his eyes. _Dead eyes_ …? He was still breathing. "Maybe they've done something to him, with whatever that little box was." Amy paused, looking down to his clothes. The tie was different then she remembered, but the pinstripe trousers and dirty cream colour converse trainers had been ingrained into her head since she was eight. She said loudly, he tone challenging, "he's _older_ than the Doctor."

She could feel Rory's eyes on her. "Yeah, he is." Pause, "…and?"

Amy looked up at him with a glare that was more frustrated than it was angry. "He's supposed to be the Doctor's _younger self_ , yeah? That's what he said. _That_ doesn't make any sense when _this_ man is _older_! I know he's alien but—" Amy stopped, trying not to let one tear escape her.

Rory opened his mouth to try and comfort his wife, but she pressed on before he could get so much as a syllable out. "Why didn't he tell me about this sooner?"

"Well," Rory began, his tone guarded.

"He lies," she interrupted flatly, harshly. Her eyes shifted back to the oddly fascinating features of the sleeping man. She felt her mouth pressing into that tight little line again, "all the time! How am I supposed to _trust_ him if he _lies_?!"

"You can trust me," Rory said quietly, a subtle but desperately hopeful note in his voice, but he might as well have been talking to a wall.

Amy's eyes felt strangely hot, but _not_ with tears. She wasn't going to start crying over that man again, not for the life of her and—

—the man sat up.

Amy let out a little gasp of surprise and fell sideways off her knees at the abrupt movement; but by the time she'd gotten upright again, _he'd_ gotten a lanky leg under himself, and was getting to his feet.

"Oh," she said, still breathless with shock, "great thanks! I almost had a heart attack!"

"Amy," Rory said carefully, reaching for his wife.

She ignored him, dragging herself back into a standing position as well. She was practically bristling with indignation. "So," she began, " _you're_ supposed to be the Doctor?" She knew that she was being rude, but at the same time she didn't really care, "we've seen your TARDIS, yeah?" She snapped, "take us to it!"

"Amy!" This time, she noticed the odd tone in her husband's voice, and turned to look at him. Rory's eyes were fixed on the man standing in front of them, the look on his face matched the sound of his voice. For some reason he had turned his small light on again and was pointing it directly at them.

"What?" She asked. Her body was already reacting, though, the beat of her heart, speeding up as her stomach started performing flip after sickening flip. _What was wrong with the Doctor_?

"His pupils still aren't dilating," Rory said quietly.

It was only at this point that Amy realised he wasn't pointing the light at them; he was pointing the light at _him_.

Very, very slowly, Amy turned her head to look up at the man beside her. The Doctor was still tall, still rather intriguingly good-looking. His face had that relaxed look about it that had made her notice that he was good-looking in the first place. Though, in the bright, white light, his pupils were eerily huge; in fact, from Amy's angle it looked as though everything but the white of his eyes had been swallowed up by them. _Dead eyes_. Her own felt like they were bugging out of her head.

"Doctor?"

Those eyes glanced down to peer directly at her, "you will be _judged._ "

Before she could react, a vice-like hand clamped around her wrist. The next thing she knew, she was being yanked back through the doors of the flower shop behind Rory, who was sprinting like the devil himself was on their heels. From behind her, she heard a crash, and turned to see the Doctor holding what looked like the top of a broken vase, coming after them with a slow, measured stride.

 _Just like the others_.

Turning back to face forward, she shouted, "but _our_ Doctor told us to look after him! And not to come out once we'd found a hiding—"

"I'm not," Rory grated out, "leaving you in there with—with _that_. I'm not."

They ran off, through the snow, the sunset framing their escape. No one payed them any mind except the man they had been tasked with protecting.

Amy almost choked on the overwhelming feeling that something very, very, VERY wrong had just happened and hated the fact that she couldn't do anything about it.


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Wake Up Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historian's Note:
> 
> For those who wish to keep up with the timeline of events, for August Keyes Series Ten has just started. For the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble, between "The Unicorn and the Wasp" and "Silence in the Library". For the Eleventh Doctor and the Ponds, it is soon after "A Christmas Carol", but before "The Impossible Astronaut".

**The Doctor peered** around the corner, watching the mind-controlled humans walk on by. His screwdriver was in his hand, the light flickering on and off as he pointed it at everyone and everything. "Grid pattern," he muttered, looking at the read out, "s'not individually, there are _way_ too many of them for that. Something, or someone is controlling them. Now if I could just figure out _what_ …" his screwdriver made a funny noise and started blinking irregularly, "stop _it_ ," he said, slapping it against his palm.

Just beyond where he was standing was a shop, they had taken Donna to, kicking, and screaming. He hadn't been able to catch up to them, they were too far ahead with too many wandering eyes about for him to make a rescue attempt.

That was when Amy Pond sprinted around the corner and collided sharply with him, causing the Doctor to lose his balance, toppling to the ground with sound of stunned pain. Amy remained standing, but only by grabbing onto the lamp post nearby.

The Doctor regarded her with something between amusement and exasperation as he sloppily got back up, slipping his screwdriver back into his jacket pocket. "Hullo, Pond," he said dryly.

Amy waved, sagging against the pole, apparently too out of breath to manage actual words. The next moment, Rory barrelled around the corner as well. "Doctor," he gasped, "we need to g—"

"Rory," the Doctor interrupted firmly, "I think I remember telling you to do something; something important. This—" He made a vague gesture at the two of them, "—was not part of it. You also seem to be _missing_ someone." He added. A small frown appeared on his brow as he realised that pinstripe was nowhere to be seen.

" _Not for long_ ," Amy muttered more cryptically then the Doctor liked.

He brightened anyway, "oh good! He woke up?"

Rory shot Amy a sidelong glance, "sort of. We should go." He insisted, his breath still coming fast.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows, "before _I_ catch up to you?" They both nodded, "okay, yeah, no, not getting it. _Why_?"

"Because he's like them!" Amy all but snarled. She looked impatient and exhausted to the extreme. "Those people! He went all—all _Dawn of the Dead_ and started trying to kill us!"

"With a broken vase!" Rory put in. Amy gave him her patented 'shut up, Rory' look, and he did.

The Doctor's eyebrows felt as though they were in danger of disappearing into his hairline. "What you're telling me is that I turned into a zombie and started trying to kill you with a broken vase?" It wasn't really a question. Amy gave him a dangerous look, which he ignored. He chuckled, putting a hand on his hip. "Yeah, no."

"No?" Rory sounded as though something was putting pressure on his voice box.

"What do you mean, _no_?" Amy really did snarl that time.

"I mean it's _impossible,_ Pond." He informed them firmly. With that, he started down the way Amy and Rory had come. He was going to figure this out. "This is low-level telepathy, it's not something that could easily affect someone like _me_ —"

"You _pompous_ —" Amy hissed, and then stalked after him, "what about the _Dream Lord_? He got into your head, didn't he?" She planted herself in front of him and raised a chin in challenge.

"That was different… psychic pollen is _very tetchy_ …"

"So, you're telling me that in the whole universe, nothing else has ever been able to get inside _your_ head?"

Erm… his mind flashed back to _Cassandra, Madame De Pompadour, the living sun,_ and—whatever it was that was on _Midnight_. Those were just recent examples. He shook his head, his tone softening, "of course not, but—"

"Doctor, do you trust me?" He gave her a somewhat flat look. "Stop that," she snapped, " _do you trust me?_ "

"Of course, Pond."

"Then listen when I tell you something is very wrong with the person chasing us."

"It _can't_ be what you think it is, Amy. Yes, I'll admit, things have gotten inside my head before, and granted, that me was bad about leaving his mental doors open, but this isn't the sort of _control_ that should be able to get through my—his defences." He looked on, searching the distance for where Captain Swagger could possibly be, before turning back to his companions. "Think of it like a web. A network. Humans are complicated calculators, hard to get into, but not so hard if you know what you're looking for, _he_ , however, is a government issued _super-computer_. A network made to manipulate _calculators_ couldn't _handle_ something like that. It's impossible to—"

The Doctor spun back around to find the topic of their conversation coming into view through the crowds of people. His long-legged stride was unhurried, in his right hand he was holding a broken vase. The Doctor got a good look at his face.

Amy gave him a wry look. "You were _saying_?"

The Doctor swallowed. He really had to stop using the word _impossible;_ it was like _nothing can possibly go wrong_ and _now we're safe_ all rolled into one ugly ball of incredibly bad karma.

"I suppose," he mumbled, " _run_." He was still looking mildly stunned at himself. It just didn't seem possible! How? None of this made any _sense_ , it was driving him mad! "RUN!" He shouted.

They started off down the little street, moving just fast enough to keep ahead of the other Doctor, while still moving slowly enough to keep him in sight.

"This is ridiculous." Amy muttered, "what if we run into something else?"

"Right, yeah, thanks; do you have anything helpful to say, _Pond_?" Amy opened her mouth, but the Doctor continued without waiting, "didn't think so. There's something I'm missing, and it is driving me—" His eyes widened, and he snapped his fingers. "Wait, wait, wait," he paused for a moment, working it all out, "Rory, when I asked if he'd woken, you said 'sort of'. Why 'sort of'?"

Rory's expression was deeply uncertain. "Because his eyes weren't reacting to light?"

"That's it!" The Doctor beamed. "Grid Pattern search, except what's he doing? He's got us on lock down, following us directly. How's he doing that? Doctor gets conked over the head, unconscious, they take the opportunity to remotely add him to the network."

"That little box thing they had?" Asked Amy. "Wait, then why aren't the others chasing us? Just him?"

The Doctor flipped out his screwdriver, "I interrupted the process, the network was down for a moment, so he's not directly connected to the system, getting network errors. He's only chasing us because his directive is to eliminate anyone not on the network. Should be easy to pull him out of it."

"I have no idea what you're saying right now," Rory said in a tone of forced calm and cheer.

"I'm saying that I'm going to go and do my best alarm clock impression!" The Ponds stared at him blankly, but he didn't wait for any further reactions. Without further ado, he turned and walked straight up to Captain Swagger.

He'd never gotten a proper look of that him from the outside before, the Doctor was rather skinny, looking vital and wiry in his tight suit and _sandshoes_. As ever those sharp features gave him an air of purpose and command that the Doctor's current, boyish, face didn't seem to possess; at the same time, those cheeky laugh lines and soft freckles gave him a kind and youthful image. If it weren't for the sandshoes, he might've looked more professional than simply a boy in his father's clothes. These two faces weren't really that different, both youthful and yet so old.

As the Doctor stared on, those big, dark, tearful eyes stared back at the Doctor. No, not back at him—right through him. Those dilated pupils gave his face a very faraway look. As the saying went, the lights were on, but no one was home.

"Hullo," he began politely, clasping his hands together. Captain Swagger came to a rather abrupt stop, and even though his eyes stayed distant, the Doctor had a sudden, unnerving impression that he was being observed. "Whoever you are, and I know you're listening, you have officially gotten my attention. Congratulations." He smiled sunnily, "let's see what you do with it."

Quite abruptly, his younger self's fist (the one not holding the vase) snapped out, heading for the side of the Doctor's head. He just ducked, clucked disapprovingly under his breath and said, "that was incredibly predictable, you know. Look, I'll be in touch so keep on your toes, and _you_ ," he added, glaring deeply into the Doctor's eyes, " _WAKE UP!_ "

The Doctor brought his head forward with alarming force and cracked it against the others forehead.

 _That_ Doctor reeled back, his eyes coming into focus with almost coming suddenness, wobbled, then fell back onto the ground, completely stunned and bug eyed. "Who—w-what?" He sputtered.

"What did you just _do_?" Amy asked as Rory hurried over to the man's side.

"I flipped a switch," said the Doctor as if it were that simple, "telepathic wakeup call! Just had to get those dormant synapses firing again and up you go!"

Amy looked at him sharply, "you can do that?"

Suddenly, there was a _thunk_. The Doctor turned around to find Captain Swagger had fallen over, passed out once again. Rory had caught him before he'd hit the ground, but by the look on his face Rory was quite done with carrying him.

"Oh," said the Doctor, "might've hit a bit too hard…"


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Doctor, Not Doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historian's Note:
> 
> For those who wish to keep up with the timeline of events, for August Keyes Series Ten has just started. For the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble, between "The Unicorn and the Wasp" and "Silence in the Library". For the Eleventh Doctor and the Ponds, it is soon after "A Christmas Carol", but before "The Impossible Astronaut".

**The first thing** August became aware of was the clump of cold snow his head was laying against. It cooled the hot throbbing thumb in the back of his head but didn't help the ache in his forehead. What had happened to him this time? There was a lot of shouting, and people, there were lots and lots of people and pointy things. He was looking for Donna, and then…? August didn't remember much after that, except perhaps singing—a song that was talking to him, telling him to do things, telling him to do what exactly?

August heard voices and thought now would be the perfect time to get up. Opening his eyes, he saw the blurry face of a girl with long red, flaming hair leaning over him.

"Mmmm, Donna…?" He murmured; his eyelids heavy.

"Oi! He's waking up!" That wasn't Donna's voice, but it was just as familiar, perhaps more _Scottish_.

He tried to lift himself off the ground, but his head swam, and he only succeeded in propping himself up on his elbows. He closed his eyes to concentrate on stabilising himself.

"I'm okay," he lied, heaving a shaky breath.

"Don't get up, just stay there." The Scottish girl placed a hand on his arm, then called over her shoulder, "Doctor! He's awake! He's trying to get up."

August scrunched up his nose in bemusement, his head still muddled. Was there a doctor? A doctor and a Scottish girl, now why did that sound familiar?

The snow made a lot of crunching noises as someone approached, landing on their knees next to him.

"What happened? Where am I? Where's Donna?" August croaked.

"I'm Rory. I'm a nurse and I'm checking you over, okay?" Said a second voice, "I think you're going to be fine; your head seems okay, but I just want to make sure. You took a pretty nasty hit in the back of it."

"Rory?" August murmured; brows furrowed. A doctor, a Scottish ginger girl, and a nurse named Rory. Hmm….

A disturbing realisation came to him.

August sat up, causing Rory and Amy to jump in alarm. His head was swimming, but he didn't really care. He staggered to his feet, woozy, and cold, he almost fell over, but Rory caught him.

"I'm Amy," said Amy, giving him a sweet smile, "sorry about earlier."

"S'fine," August murmured, rubbing at his head.

A third voice entered the mix, "yes, sorry about earlier. You were… well, a bit of a _zombie_ person."

August turned to come face to face with _the Doctor_ (the Eleventh to be precise), who flipped his screwdriver into the air, pocketing it as he came to stand right in front of August, looking him over head to toe. August backed up a step, doing much the same, but the Doctor's cocky smile did not mirror his own teeth gritted frown.

"Never mind that, Doctor," said the Doctor, "you can thank me, later."

A moment of silence passed between the two. That mad man in a bowtie and tweed looked as giddy as a kid in a candy store. August, on the other hand, immediately felt very queasy.

"Doctor?" He found himself asking, an odd chill passing through his spine. Donna Noble had been enough of a shock, never mind the TARDIS. It took him a while to process it all, but August thought he'd managed quite well given the circumstances. This, this was different. August had spent his entire life wanting to _be_ the man standing before him, and now that he was, he found himself fanboying and on the verge of another mental breakdown which at this point could really sum up his feelings towards the past two days.

"Doctor." agreed the Doctor. He pointed at August, clapping his hands, "right, now that we got that all sorted," he looked to his companions, as August was snapped from his stupor.

He looked at the Doctor confused for a moment, "Doctor? I'm not—" he stopped when he caught a glance of his own stunned expression in the window to his left. In a stupid moment, he'd almost forgotten the face he wore. "Hold on," he started again, reaching for the Doctor, "I'm—"

"In order, none of your business, and I'm taking these two on a honeymoon. More of a series of honeymoons really," the Doctor paused, shaking his head, "but that's not important, what's _important_ is figuring out what we're going to do about London's _zombie_ problem and why this is all still… _blurry_ for me." He looked back at August, right into his eyes, if August wasn't completely absorbed by the Doctor's presence, he might not have seen the flicker of a frown cross the Doctor's lips. "Maybe you're just not paying enough attention, _sandshoes_."

August took in a large breath, glancing down at his converse, this conversation falling into familiar territory (was John Hurt about to pop round for tea?). " _I highly doubt that_ ," he murmured. August found himself biting at his lip again. "Look, Doctor, I—"

The Doctor suddenly shushed him, which August found was a rather rude thing to do to your younger self, even _if_ he wasn't actually the Doctor; Eleven didn't know that. "Do you hear that?" Asked the Doctor.

"No." Stated Amy.

"Exactly," said the Doctor, "they've stopped marching." Moving away from the group, the Doctor bounded over to the entrance of the alleyway they were currently hiding in. The Ponds both moved to follow him.

August gave an exasperated sigh; the Doctor would find out eventually. August followed them, peeking out beyond the corner.

There were groups of people, in rows of about six vertically, eight horizontally. Some of them seemed very violent, what with all the deadly objects they were carrying ranging from knives, bats, and broken bottles. A moment ago, August had to gather, they'd been marching, but now they'd all stopped in the middle of the street. It was eerie, making August's blood bump a mile a minute in anticipation for something to happen.

"They're just standing there," whispered Amy.

"Reminds me of the _Cybus_ _Cyberman_ ," August muttered.

The Doctor glanced at him, and odd look on his face, "sort of, not quite, no earphones, no external devices, all internal, makes it quite a lot harder to turn whatever it is off," said the Doctor, gently pulling his screwdriver out of his coat pocket. "Probably something a bit more like the _archangel_ network, less technology-based, more telepathic…"

"Why've they stopped?" Rory asked.

" _Doomsday_ ," August blurted, the word ringing through his head, coming back to him as if it were from a bad dream. That song he had heard—something about _Doomsday_.

"What was that?" Asked the Doctor, eyeing him.

August blinked, looking towards the Doctor, "erm, there was this _song_ , I can't remember exactly…" It was on the tip of his tongue, something that had sung to him while unconscious. "I just remember _Doomsday_."

"There was someone speaking to you when you were being controlled?" Asked Rory.

August nodded, "something about bringing judgement upon humanity. _The weak-minded will join the cause, or Doomsday will be wrought upon them all. Judgment with fall._ " He rubbed absently at the sore spot on the back of his head.

The buzz of the sonic screwdriver snapped August out of it, " _humans_ ," the Doctor muttered, "considered weak-minded compared to more telepathic races; usually telepaths are quite peaceful, but sometimes, in rare cases, you get ones that think they know better and are better than the 'weak-minded', so what do they do?"

"Mind control all the humans to create an army in order to take control of the planet and prove superiority?" Asked Rory.

" _Bingo_ ," said the Doctor, properly pointing his screwdriver out to the crowd once he'd found the setting he wanted, "much like your _Earth politics_ , now if I could just hack into the signal I should be able to transmit the commands to the sonic, then we can get a good look at who's behind all this."

When all eyes simultaneously turned to face the time travellers, the Doctor ducked back into the alleyway, pulling the others with him. He quickly shut off his screwdriver, tucking it into his pocket. "then again, I might have just given _them_ a signal to lock onto instead." The marching began again, except this time it was drawing nearer.

"Good time to start running, then?" Asked Amy.

"Exactly, Pond. Erm, this way," the Doctor started off to the other end of the back alley and down the street towards the Thames. Many of the people lining the streets that might have ignored them before, all turned to watch with hatred in their eyes. There didn't seem to be any direction they could go where they wouldn't be chased. If only they could get out of sight, again.

"Here!" Cried the Doctor, moving to duck into another back alley, only for more humans to start marching down it, "or then again, maybe not."

"How're they still following, you turned off the screwdriver," asked Rory, "shouldn't that have stopped the signal?"

"They've got to still be locked on to it, somehow." Said August

as even the people inside all the shops started making their way towards the group. They had to stop, for there seemed like nowhere else to go.

The Doctor pulled out the screwdriver again, turning it round in his hand, he banged it against his palm. The screwdriver protested, "it's picking up interference! It won't shut off properly."

The Doctor began pointing his screwdriver at the group threatening, August watched as the army of mind slaves weaved back and forth with the sonic.

They were quickly beginning surrounded up against the guard railing of the Thames. The people were chanting, "you will be _judged,_ you will be _judged_ ," over and over again.

"Doctor, I don't think your helping!" Cried, Amy.

"Think they'll follow us into the river?" Asked Rory, edging his way up onto the bannister.

"Oh, for the love of—" August grabbed the screwdriver from the Doctor's befuddled hands and chucked it as hard as he could into the Thames. The Doctor watched in horror as his precious screwdriver went flying out into the water and landed with a _plop_!

August waited for that to not work, but as it turned out, the screwdriver was, in fact, the problem. The humans passed right by the time travellers and attempted to reach for the screwdriver.

"That worked?" August said, "I mean, of course, it did—"

"—my screwdriver!" Cried the Doctor.

"Doctors!" Amy shouted.

"Right," said the Doctor, "this way!"

Manoeuvring their way around the humans distracted by the screwdriver, the group made their way across Westminster bridge, booking it as fast as they could. A little way into the other side of town amongst all the small shopping centres and a rather familiar hospital ( _Martha,_ thought August bleakly), the Doctor pulled the group off towards a clothing store that was luckily unlocked for so late at night.

"In here, quickly." He shooed the group through the doorway, sliding the door back into place, his hand automatically reaching into his coat pocket.

"Use mine," August said, tossing the smaller, blue-tipped, screwdriver towards the Doctor who caught it with ease. Once the door was locked everyone relaxed.

The sun had fully set now, making the clothing store creepy and foreboding with all the mannequin's posed around. It seemed abandoned.

Out of breath, August propped himself up on top of the front desk. The Ponds did the same. The Doctor, however, kept on, scanning the store with his old screwdriver. The others didn't pay him much attention.

"Where's Donna?" August asked, quite suddenly, his tone taking perhaps too much of an edge; the Doctor hadn't answered him earlier and he was worried for her.

"The woman you were with?" Asked Amy, giving him a look that August wasn't quite sure he liked being focused on him; like she was looking at the impossible. He shifted uncomfortably; he really needed to find a way to tell them about him. He couldn't keep on like he was the Doctor. That sort of thing always went badly in the movies.

"She's _fine_ ," said the Doctor, his screwdriver trained on a mannequin. The screwdriver made a funny noise. The Doctor frowned, before moving on, "I'm sure Donna can handle herself, for now, she's been through worse; I highly doubt _they'd_ harm her anyway. Probably just taken to be _processed_ like the others."

"Processed?" Asked Rory.

"Keeps the mind control more stable," the Doctor said simply without much more explanation on the subject. "Which sort of narrows down who it could be… possibly—not really, it's still a bit of a mystery, but I'm sure if we can just find a _lair_ , always love a good _lair_ , we—"

"I'm not you," August blurted, his chest squeezing tight as he waited for everyone's reactions. Amy and Rory looked at him bemused; August wasn't sure they had even heard him clearly. "I'm—" August sighed, "—I'm not the Doctor."

He saw the Doctor pause for a moment, before waving him off with his free hand. "Nonsense," he replied, "of course, you're me. Why wouldn't you be? Mind you, I don't remember sounding _American_ , but it's all in-flux, timey-wimey stuff. Two of us here is causing problems within the timestream, like with _celery_ us, so let's hope Belgium doesn't go missing."

"I'm not _kidding_ ," August said, coming to a stand, "my name is _August_."

"Wait, but the Doctor said you were him. Like a previous version or something." Said Amy, she stood also, and moved away from where August was, "and you're saying you're _not_?"

"Oh, don't be silly, Pond," said the Doctor, shaking his head, "how could he not be _me_?"

"Because I'm _not_ ," August grated out, "yesterday I was at this convention with my friends, then suddenly I found myself with Donna Noble in the TARDIS." He sighed running a hand through his hair. The sideburns on his cheeks began to tingle as he became hyper-aware of them. "I don't look like this, this isn't my body, it's yours," he motioned towards the Doctor, "I'm not _you_."

"A convention? Like Comic-con? You're from Earth: _human_?" Asked Rory. August nodded in confirmation. "This couldn't be like, some sort of weird _body swap_ because of the _mind control_ could it, Doctor?" Rory theorized.

The Doctor waved his hand dismissively, "no, no, telepathic fields not strong enough for that," he scratched his head with his screwdriver, following another train of thought, "it couldn't be a _chameleon arch_ ; they don't work like that…"

"Oh, please don't bring up chameleon arches," muttered August, "I don't even want to think of the implications of _that_."

"Ah!" The Doctor pointed at August as if he'd just fallen for his trap, "how do you know what a chameleon arch is! No way a human could know that!"

August sucked in air through his teeth, "see, that's where things start to get complicated. I _think_ I might come from an _alternative universe_."

"Why would you be from an _alternate universe_?" Rory asked, confusion as clear as day on his face.

"Because where I'm from there's this show called _Doctor Who_. It's about the Doctor and his adventures through time and space in the TARDIS," August explained.

"Oh, that's ridiculous," said Amy, but she didn't sound entirely confident in herself, "why would the Doctor be on the telly?"

"Look," said August, already annoyed with having to explain all this a second time, "believe me or don't, but I can tell you things _this_ Doctor wouldn't know. Like-like, the Star-whale and Star ship UK, er—the weeping angels! When you thought you were going to turn to stone and so the Doctor bit you, and Rory's stag party where the Doctor popped out of a cake! I know about the Dream Lord, the Pandorica, all of it, okay? It's all on TV in my universe."

Amy shifted on her feet, "Doctor, how'd he know all that, he shouldn't, should he?"

"No, not if he's me _then_." The Doctor's expression grew cold. August _really_ did not like the tone in his voice.

"He could be lying, couldn't he?" Said Rory, "whatever's controlling the people outside, what if it's still controlling him?"

"Do I look like a zombie to you?" Bit out August, frustration and fear never being a good mix. "Look," and he held up his arms, "scan me or something. Doctor, your telepathic, read my mind, I'm not making this up!"

The Doctor who was pulling off a pair of 3-D glasses, cautiously trained his screwdriver on August. When he checked the read-out, his gaze flicked between August and the screwdriver. "Two hearts, respiratory bypass system, yada, yada," he pressed the screwdriver close, "but you are _human_ ," he said, sounding incredulous, "that doesn't make _sense_ _._ _A human mind can't survive inside a Time Lord body. Your_ _brain_ should be—"

"—collapsing? Falling apart, going _boom_ ," finished August, remembering Donna's fate. It sent a chill up his spine.

"YES!" The Doctor exclaimed, throwing up his hands in frustration. "So why aren't you? And that would explain why I don't remember anything, _I'm_ not here at the moment, but you are. Why? Who are you?" And he came to stand in front of August again, that curious look on his face like he was looking into a fish tank at SeaWorld; all giddy and fascinated. August didn't like the feeling of being the fish in the tank.

"So, wait. You're saying that in an alternate universe, there's a programme on the telly that tells the story of the Doctor's life?" Asked Rory, not being able to get passed the whole 'my life is on a tv show aspect'.

"But that doesn't make sense! _How_ is there a universe where the Doctor's life is on the telly?" Amy demanded, sounding irritated.

"Anything's possible, Pond," said the Doctor, and he moved away from August in thought, "but travel to and from parallel universes is _supposed_ to be closed off, _I_ fixed that when I was you—him—me! Blimey, pronouns!"

"But you haven't yet," said August, slowly, realisation coming to his face. It wasn't like the Doctor had never travelled to alternate universes, he did it a few times as the Tenth Doctor; August remembered the over-arching plot of series 4 quite well. It was one of his favourites, _depressing_ , but fun _and he thought of Donna again_.

"Come again?" asked the Doctor.

August sighed, thinking for a moment "For Donna and this you," he began, "Rose Tyler would still be blasting her way through alternate universes to find you, wouldn't she? Those events are still happening at this point in your timeline. You said it yourself, the timelines are overlapping causing irregularities—paradoxes. Wouldn't that mean the ripples in the fabric of reality are both there and not there? The gaps in space-time, the Daleks and Cyberman in the void. You've fixed it," he gestured to the Doctor, "but you," he then gestured to himself, "still have no idea about it."

"Yes, I suppose that would make sense," said the Doctor, his eyes sparkling just that little bit, "you're _clever_ , aren't you?"

He shrugged, "I watch a lot of sci-fi," said August, he then made a face, "and read a lot because honestly sometimes they do a _terrible_ job explaining how it all works in the actual episodes. You know how many online forms I've sifted through just to try and make sense of the meta-crisis? _Big Bang Two_?"

"Yeah that one still doesn't make sense," said Rory, "and I lived it."

"Do you know the future?" Amy asked, pointedly.

"Pond, _no_." Said the Doctor, "nobody can know their own future, especially not time travellers. And you," he pointed at August, "keep a lid on it."

August held up his hands, "I wasn't planning on saying anything."

"Wait," Said Rory, "if he's not you then where is the Doctor—erm— _that_ Doctor?"

The Doctor shrugged, "could be a number of things really, body swap, wonky chameleon arch, body _possession_ …"

"Yeah, I'd rather not think about those first two," said August, still uncomfortable with the idea of the Doctor in his body, "anyways, don't we have bigger issues to worry about than if the other you is off playing house in my body? The whole of London _is_ still mind-controlled zombies."

The Doctor smirked at that, "quite so, we can worry about _me_ later. Now," he clapped, "what did you say your name was again?"

"August," said August, "Keyes."

" _August Keyes_ , brilliant name! Alright then, Ponds, Keyes, come along," the Doctor held up his sonic, the glow alighting his face, as he pointed it towards the back of the clothing store, "I have a sneaking suspicious we've happened upon a _lair_."


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Into the Underground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historian's Note:
> 
> For those who wish to keep up with the timeline of events, for August Keyes Series Ten has just started. For the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble, between "The Unicorn and the Wasp" and "Silence in the Library". For the Eleventh Doctor and the Ponds, it is soon after "A Christmas Carol", but before "The Impossible Astronaut".

**If Donna's hands** weren't tied behind her back, she would have clocked the lot of them.

It was dark, too dark to make out anything. No one carried a torch; they didn't seem to have the need. They were marching, marching for what felt like hours, but in reality, had only been probably forty minutes. Water splatted at her feet; the smell was atrocious. Perhaps it was better that she couldn't see where she was.

"Are you ever going to tell me where your taking me?" Asked Donna.

"You will be _judged_ ," repeated the same voice that had said the same thing the last three times she had asked a question.

"They're not going to answer you, not really," said a shaky voice, belonging to the same girl Donna had tried to rescue. She sounded particularly frightened, near blubbering, "they never _answer_. They're just-just—"

"It's going to be alright," said Donna, testing the strength of the ropes around her wrists again. They were _tight_ and chaffing. "I've got this _friend_ , he'll find us. I know he will."

"That tall bloke?" Said the girl, "what's he going to do if they haven't captured him already as well?"

Donna didn't have an answer to that. August had been knocked unconscious by the same people who'd decided it was a clever idea to sneak up behind her. Who knows what had happened to him? She dearly hoped he hadn't become like the rest of this lot, if that were the case Donna didn't know if she even had a chance of getting free. August wasn't exactly _experienced_ at all this.

He knew a lot, enough to make Donna uncomfortable in some respects. _Just how much did he know about her?_ When he was talking—geeking out about things, she almost thought she could see the Doctor, if just for a moment, in the way his eyes sparkled in child-like glee. She wasn't sure she could rely on him to come and save her though.

She was worried about him—the both of them.

When Donna didn't answer her immediately, the girl really did start crying.

Donna sighed, " _Doctor, where are you_?"

* * *

"There you are!" Cooed the Doctor, the blue tipped, silver screwdriver leading him straight to the women's dressing room. Out from the wall popped a control panel of some sort, that the Doctor began buzzing at.

"And what's that?" Asked Amy, leaning over the Doctor's shoulder.

"What does it look like," he asked, poking, and prodding about inside it.

"Door controls?" Asked August.

"Door controls." The Doctor confirmed, "bit complicated, not for me, for other people. Definitely _alien,_ got bits and pieces of mechanics from _several_ other worlds—ooo, that is beautiful workmanship for something all hodgepodge."

"Can you open it?"

"Course I can, Pond, just like—" he paused, the screwdriver tip blinking on and off, "—that! And bob's your uncle!" There was a soft click, a red light on the panel turning green and then an impression of a doorway appeared from within the wallpaper, sliding off to the side; a dark tunnel was revealed. They all looked down it, feeling a rather foreboding sense of dread. "Anyone got a torch?" Asked the Doctor with a boyish grin.

"That's proper dark down there," said Rory, "barely can see a thing."

"August, _torch_." The Doctor repeated, "should be in your left coat pocket."

"Erm," August patted down the pockets of his coat. Reaching down into the left pocket, he felt all sorts of things, "hold on," he said, noting Amy and Rory's shocked faces as the better part of his forearm dipped down inside. He felt something metallic and cold, in the shape of a flashlight and pulled. Out came a large night stick. He turned it on, flashing down the tunnel. It revealed a staircase that went on farther than the light could carry,

"That's not comforting," said Rory.

"No, but it is exciting! Come along, gang!" Down the narrow staircase the Doctor went, followed by August carrying the flashlight ("I thought you hated the word 'gang'."), and then the Ponds.

"What is this even doing here?" Asked August, annoyed by his need to hunch over. The tunnel was perhaps three feet wide and five and a half feet tall. August wasn't a very claustrophobic person, but he was beginning to feel cramped.

"Oh, they're everywhere," said the Doctor, "sonics been picking up the radiation traces from all these secret doors since we landed, which is what was interfering with it earlier," he frowned at the screwdriver in his hand. August knew he was thinking about the green and bronze one he'd tossed into the river.

" _Radiation_?" Said Rory, incredulous, "and you were going to tell us about this when?"

"Arrodon Radiation. Nothing serious or harmful unless you're _Martian_ or a _sonic screwdriver_. The _Yanano_ use it in most of their machinery which is where some bits and pieces of that control panel are from. Have you heard of the _Yanano_ , August?"

"No, actually," said August, purposely shining the flashlight into the Doctor's eyes when he turned around, "but then again, I don't know everything, just _most_ things, which is probably not even _that_ much."

"Good," said the Doctor, "Yanano don't usually leave their home planet."

"Then what is their technology doing on Earth?" Amy asked.

"That _is_ the question."

There was a drop before the passage widened and the roof were taller. The Doctor jumped down with ease and August followed suite, he offered his hand to Amy, but she ignored him. Once she was down, she moved past him to the Doctor's side.

"Don't take it personally," said Rory, coming up beside August, "I think you just freak her out a little bit."

"It's fine," said August, indifferently, "Donna wasn't exactly delighted to learn that some _stranger_ had gone and stolen her best friend away, either. Learning about regeneration can be a tricky thing, can't imagine what it feels like to find out the Doctor not only has other faces, but now..." he sighed, not really knowing how to define the situation he'd found himself in.

"Regeneration?" Rory asked, "is that what it's called, when he changes his face?"

"Erm, yeah," said August, frowning, "sorry—Rory can I ask you something?" Rory shrugged, nonchalantly, "so, you've been travelling with the Doctor for a while, I can tell that much, but you haven't—" he bit his lip, "—have you gone home yet? The Doctor said he was taking you on honeymoons…"

"Ah, no, we haven't," Rory gave an awkward laugh, "the Doctor's been popping us around the universe trying to find the perfect honeymoon, haven't had much luck so far, just like _date night_ …"

"And, did one of your honeymoons include a crashing spaceship and flying fish during Christmas by chance?"

Rory seemed taken aback, "uh, yeah, how'd you—"

"—Christmas… _specials_." Said August, realising how weird it was to talk about these events has both fact and fiction, "that helps clear up the timeline, though."

" _Christmas specials_." Rory still sounded shocked, "the Doctor gets Christmas specials?"

"Why wouldn't I get Christmas specials?" Came the Doctor's voice, sounding indignant, "lots of things happen to me on Christmas, lots of fun, exciting, and deadly things."

"Gelth, Sycorax, Racnoss, Titanic, Cyberman," counted August, " _the Master_." He didn't like thinking about that one and he glanced down at his hands in thought. "Then the flying fish," he finished with a large draw of breath. "And those are just more recent examples…"

" _Christmas specials,_ " repeated Rory.

"So, in this _programme_ of yours," Amy interrupted, her voice still somewhat challenging, "it shows _all_ of the Doctor's life?"

"Well," August mumbled, "not all of it. It's like any other show with episodes for each adventure; that kind of thing." He shrugged, "other adventures are featured in books or audios, but there's always stories that haven't been written yet."

"Wait, does that mean that what's happening right now could be being written as I speak?" Asked Rory.

"Hmm, maybe," mumbled August, the thought not having occurred to him, "except, see, I don't come from _your_ time, I come from the future. So, I _know_ that this hasn't been written or filmed or anything. Unless when I get back home it exists as if it's always been there…" August ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end as he groaned, "ugh, that is one paradox I don't want to think about."

"Yeah, best not to," said the Doctor, "anyways, here we are!" The group came upon a metal door that was covered in rust and age. It didn't look alien, perhaps more steampunk.

"Oh, what is that smell!" Cried Amy, plugging her nose.

"Sewer system!" The Doctor sounded elated; despite the displeasure his companions were currently experiencing. He spun the wheel lock, opening the door. The Doctor breathed in deeply. "This way smells _fishy_ ," he said, pointing left of the three tunnels that were on the other side.

"Oh god," mumbled Amy, trying to block out the stench with the scarf around her neck, "I think I'm gonna be _sick_."

"Toughen up, Pond, you've been in the belly of a _Star Whale_ , the London sewer system is nothing compared to that."

"Yeah, but even that didn't stink half as bad."

August was having the same amount of trouble keeping his food down, and Rory sounded like he was dry heaving, but it didn't seem to bother the Doctor.

"I think Amy's right, Doctor," said August, trying not to gag, "that doesn't smell like just—well, _rubbish_ , it smells like—"

"—rotting _flesh_." The Doctor stopped dead at the next intersection, spinning around on his toes and sniffing the air. "This way," he beckoned them down the right tunnel.

Dirty sewer water kicked up against their legs as the smell only grew more pungent.

There was another door, this one matched the hodgepodge design of the control panel they had found in the shop above ground. It definitely wasn't of human design. The stench of bile, human crap, and rotting flesh grew intensely, and August could hear…

"Do you hear that?" Asked the Doctor and he placed his ear against the door.

"Hear what?" Asked Amy, her voice sounding funny through her plugged nose.

"A voice," muttered August, "can't you hear it calling?"

"I can't hear anything." Said Rory.

There was a voice, soft and delicate, each word like the note of a music box in August's head. It was so quiet, tingling at his ears, that August thought he might be imaging it as he strained to listen.

" _Save me, help me, save me_ ," sung an alto, " _free me, free me, free me from my prison_."

August suddenly had this overwhelming feeling of sadness, as if all the happiness was draining from him, very tired, incredibly heart-breaking, so _cold_. If he could just close his eyes for a moment. It would go away then wouldn't it?

" _Save me, help me, free me._ " It grew louder, until the only thing he could perceive was the song, the melody of a captive, so alone and in so much pain. What were all these images? A stranger? Not human? So much pain, so much hurt. Someone was crying out, screaming, it was blood curdling, and—oh, hold on a moment. It was him; he was screaming. Why was he doing that?

 _August! It's okay, listen to my voice, hold on!_ It was the Doctor's voice, a calm and rational calling that broke through the horrors invading August's mind. _Yanano can have a strong effect on someone who's not used to having any type of telepathic resonance. Just ignore it, August, listen to my voice._

August concentrated, he concentrated on ignoring the cries for help, the melody of pain and suffering, the images, and tried to concentrate on the Doctor's words.

A long, agonising moment passed.

 _There you go, that's it. Close it off, close the doors, throw away the key if you like. It can't hurt you if you don't let it_. The melody, delicately pulled away, fading into the recesses of August's mind, and then sealed behind three or four airtight doors, each key quickly being tossed into oblivion. August felt his face growing warm again and breathed.

When August opened his eyes, the Doctor's forehead was pressed up against his. His cheeks were wet with tears and his throat was dry and swore. He felt out of breath and very tired, but the last thing he wanted to do at the moment was sleep.

"You took it away," said August in awe.

"It's still there, I just closed your doors to it," said the Doctor, "steady?"

"Steady." August repeated. He found Rory at his side, helping him stand, a worried look on his face. Amy was a pace away, looking like she didn't quite understand what to feel. August nodded, "I'm good," he reassured them. He shook his head once, just to make sure he was actually awake, "Yeap, I'm good. What _was_ that? It was like the _Ood_ or something." He breathed.

"The Yanano are telepaths much like the Ood. Normally a human wouldn't be able to hear anything, but you were exposed to its telepathic frequency before when the mind slaves attempted to interrogate you into the network. I interrupted that process however, which I believe might have tuned you're brain into the Yanano's signal like a radio. You're connected to each other." He took August's head into his hands again, looking back and forth between August's eyes, "yeah," he breathed, "it should wear off eventually, but you might experience some dizzy spells till your mind becomes acclimated to the resonance." He patted August on the shoulder.

"Acclimated?" Asked August, but the Doctor was already sonicing open the door.

The first thing he noticed upon stepping into the circular room was all the tubbing and wiring coming down from the ceiling. It was all tangled and knotted in a very disorganised fashion. August could actually see the large volts of electricity running down them in large spirts of pure light that tingled the air around him.

It all converged down into the centre of the room to some sort of machine fashioned to fit a humanoid form. There were pumps and liquids in jars around the backside, in the front was a dome, within the dome was a creature that every now and again would react to the electrical impulses that were sent through its body.

"The _Yanano_ ," said the Doctor, his voice on edge, "an almost purely telepathic race, for the most part they're harmless, by choice, mind you, they can easily overwhelm lower life-forms as well as other telepaths which is why they chose to stick to one network, one frequency. Which is one of the reasons _why_ they don't usually leave their home planet. The other being that they need Arrodon radiation like humans need Oxygen to breath, but it only _exists_ on Arrodian IV." The Doctor ran his hand over the glass casing.

"It doesn't have eyes," said Rory.

"Or a nose," said Amy.

"They don't have anything," said August, and he had to lean against the wall because he began to feel dizzy.

The four of them stood there in front of the dome casing, each of them feeling their own sense of despair for the faceless creature currently imprisoned within that monstrous machine.

"That smell," said Rory, "is it…"

"This system is what's keeping it _alive_ ," said the Doctor. He pointed the volts travelling down the tubing above. "Arrodon radiation is found within electricity that's usually in the atmosphere of Arrodian IV, she's being force fed through those."

"Who would do such a thing?" Asked August, his voice a cold rage, "it's _suffering_ in there, I just don't understand how anyone could—" he turned away, unable to finish his sentence. August ran his hands over his jaw, trying to rid his body of this tense awful feeling that wouldn't go away.

"August, that voice that you heard before, while you were being controlled," began the Doctor, "what did it sound like?"

"Nothing like _the Yanano_ ," his voice croaked, "whatever was speaking to me—controlling _me_ sounded _nothing_ like what they—she sounds like, it was more… demanding, more rigid, more like the _Imperial March_ , I dunno. Whoever it was, it definitely wasn't the Yanano."

"Of course, it wasn't the Yanano," said the Doctor, giving August his customary 'stupid humans' look. " _Imperial March_ … That might have narrowed it down though."

"So, someone else is controlling the Yanano? Forcing it do what?" Asked Amy.

"Think, Pond. The Yanano has the ability to enter someone else's mind, feed them thoughts and feelings like it did with August. It can make you feel it's feelings, it's sadness—"

"—it's anger." Said Rory.

Abruptly there was a lot of screaming coming from the doorway as a group of shadows passed over the room. August recognised one of the voices in the lot immediately, and not just by the call of his name.

"Donna?" His voice sounded hoarse.

"August, wait—"

Before the Doctor could stop him, August had already taken off down through the open side door. He wasn't going to let her be processed like the rest of the humans, he'd failed her once today, he wasn't going to do that again. He cared too much to let that happen.

* * *

What was the number one rule he had? _Don't wander off._ He was fairly sure that was it, _don't wander off_. What had August decided to do? It was worse than simply wandering; he ran headlong into the problem without much thought into the situation at all. _Too much like the Doctor, perhaps_.

The Doctor heaved an aggravated sigh, "Ponds, stay put, watch out for anything alien, see if you can find where that tubing leads to."

"Wait, where are you going?" Asked Amy, "can't he handle himself?"

The Doctor gave her a look before running off after the boy.


	17. Chapter Sixteen: Alien on High

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historian's Note:
> 
> For those who wish to keep up with the timeline of events, for August Keyes Series Ten has just started. For the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble, between "The Unicorn and the Wasp" and "Silence in the Library". For the Eleventh Doctor and the Ponds, it is soon after "A Christmas Carol", but before "The Impossible Astronaut".

**August thought that** he really ought to stop rushing into things.

He clearly recalled a day from his childhood, back in—oh, say sixth grade? It was one of those stupid nature hike field trips he'd hated since forever. They were always hot, humid, and never any actual fun. The teachers and chaperones telling you to do this, and to do that, and _'don't wander off now darlings, we've got a schedule to keep_ '.

Eleven-year-old August, with his gap tooth smile, dinky plastic toy sonic screwdriver, and long scarf knitted by his grandmother (in retrospect, he probably shouldn't have worn it in a hundred-degree-weather), wanted so desperately to simply go exploring.

Parady—who at the time went by the _cool_ name Zan—and Holly with her little pigtails were right by his side, slipping away to go on their own hike just off the path.

Holly had suggested they leave some sort of trail to mark their way back, Parady insisting they made sure their parents knew, but, with that silly toy brandished as a weapon, August insisted that he could find their way back on his own.

It was around midnight that the search party found them sitting out in the woods, August crying for Holly had fallen, her leg twisted into a position that didn't look right from any angle.

She'd spent two weeks in the hospital; he'd spent three grounded.

"You will be _judged._ "

August quickly ducked back into his hiding spot, hoping dearly that the small army couldn't see him. They'd stopped at some sort of metal door half a mile down from where the Yanano was being held captive. The door looked relatively normal as most creepy metal doors went for being in the sewers, but there was something undeniably alien about it. Perhaps it was the large eyeball looking thing that emerged from a hole in the centre that gave it away.

The eye, attached to a long snake-like cord, blinked around at the army before it. Those under mind control were no matter to it, as it spent little time on them, electing instead to focus on the two women held captive. Both were frightened, but Donna held a steely resolve in her eyes that made August grin. Good old Donna was always so brave in the face of danger. The other girl was crying silently, head down.

If the eyeball had eyelids, August was sure it would have narrowed them. "Two _measly_ , humans?" Came a slippery sounding voice, one that made August tense as it felt familiar. _Could it be the voice that had been commanding him?_ "Is this the last of them?"

August allowed himself to peek around the corner more, none in the small army were answering the eyeball and it seemed like Donna was doing her best to comfort the crying girl. After a moment, the eyeball rolled, "ugh, forget it, you things are useless," the voice croaked—rather frog like, August thought— "bring them in. After we lost that other one you idiots could use all the help you can get."

August had a sickening feeling the voice was talking about him.

The eye shrunk back into its hole and the door clicked opened. Donna and the girl were shoved through and for a moment August locked eyes with her. The door swung shut behind them, the air in the room growing still. August hated the pure nervous energy that ran throughout his entire body at the thought of what could possibly be happening to Donna.

When the Doctor finally caught up to August, he didn't notice the Time Lord right away. The Doctor cleared his throat. August jumped, biting down on his lip perhaps a bit too hard, and almost sucker punched the Doctor.

"Oh," he breathed, "God, don't _do_ that." August rubbed at his punctured lip, sighing at the bright red blood now on his palm.

"Number one rule," said the Doctor, " _don't wander off_. I thought you would know that, _Keyes_ , or does that TV show of yours skip over the important parts?"

August didn't pay much attention to the Doctor's words; he didn't need berating. Donna was his main concern. The Doctor poked his head around the corner as well.

"Is that where they've taken her?" Asked the Doctor.

August nodded, wiping his hand off on his trouser leg, "Donna and this other girl. There was a voice, sort of all, _froggy_." He couldn't think of a better word to describe it.

" _Froggy_?" Asked the Doctor.

"Part of me doesn't doubt the possibility of a giant _frog_ on the other side of that door," said August, thinking of the _Judoon_ and other such aliens that resembled Earth animals, "but I really hope I'm wrong cause then I'm going to have _nightmares_." It being that the alien didn't look like _rubber_ and did look very much like a large, very real, slimy frog.

"Hmm," hummed the Doctor, moving towards the door, "you might be onto something there."

"Oh, don't say that," whined August, walking over to the Doctor. He pointed towards the small circular opening in the door, "there was an eyeball sort of thing that popped out through here earlier."

"Real eyeball?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure. Can you get it open?"

"Easy enough," the door clicked open with one more whir from the sonic, "there we go, careful now." The Doctor took the lead and August followed closely behind.

It was intensely warm, so much so that August had the urge to pull off all of his clothes; the sweat was near immediate on his brow, but it didn't seem to bother the Doctor. A soft light blinkered overhead, enveloping the near pitch-black room in red light every few seconds. It wasn't a very wide room, but it was long. August found himself backed into the corner the moment they had walked a pace from the door. It was dark enough that August doubted they were going to be spotted unless someone was looking for them, even still they found a good box to hide behind.

Up ahead there was the small army that had taken Donna and the girl. They were standing on either side of a large machine with a seat and some sort of head probe. Donna was being held off to the right, the girl was in the chair, whimpering and pleading for them to stop what they were doing. Whatever it was, it seemed like it was taking a while to start the process.

"Doctor," whispered August, the word rolling of his tongue with a slight accent, "what is that?"

"Mental stasis probe," said the Doctor, "a device used on colony ships to ensure passengers don't go into synaptic shock during the cryogenic process. Basically, it puts the brain into a vegetable state until you're ready to be woken again, but I've never seen one used like this…"

"You said a lot of the alien technology around here has been stolen, right? First with the Yanano…"

"The Yanano is an antenna," said the Doctor, "normally a Yanano can only _suggest_ things to you, make you feel a certain way about things, but if the brain is dormant than it's basically an empty playground for a telepath."

"There's no one to resist," murmured August, "but all those thoughts put in my head about _Doomsday_ …"

"You might be a vegetable, but the brain is a tricky thing, it still takes some convincing to get it to do something it innately doesn't want to do. Which is why the Yanano never use force, they use _suggestion_. The mind is more cooperative that way."

It was all starting to make sense to August, "someone is putting the whole of London into a vegetable state using this mental stasis probe thing," he thought aloud, "then hacking into the Yanano's telepathic frequency to give themselves access to the humans dormant minds in order to basically hypnotise them into doing their bidding?"

"Well, I wouldn't say hypnotise..."

August looked boggled, "this seems so overtly complicated just for a bit of mind control. I mean, why not use _blood control_ or—or, I dunno, something _simpler_?"

"Oh, blood control is way more complicated than this!" Said the Doctor, "creating a telepathic network is child's play," the Doctor threw his sonic into the air, "if I can find the frequency that machine is using to vegetize everyone and trace back the telepathic signal the Yanano is transmitting through, I should be able to reverse the polarity and wake up all the humans."

"Like you did with me?"

"Sort of, not really, they hadn't completely the process entirely with you, all you needed was a mental _snap_ to wake up the synapsis, this is more of a big _bang_ of electromagnetic feedback." The Doctor gesticulated just how big of a bang with his arms excitedly. "I'll need to find a way to amplify the signal of course, which might be tricky. There's got to be a control matrix involved somewhere, something to enter in all the commands separately from the Yanano, if I can locate that I should be able to send out the jamming frequency to everyone."

August thought hard. "What about the Yanano? Can't we just disconnect them? If the antenna goes down won't it disrupt the transmission?"

The Doctor shook his head, "disconnect the Yanano from the machine, life support fails, the Yanano sends out a massive electrical impulse onto the network and it'll fry everyone brain dead. Defensive mechanism, can't be helped."

"And that would be _bad_ ," said August matter-o-factly.

" _Very bad_ ," said the Doctor.

The machine in front of them began to whir and clink, the lights along the bottom rim of the seat flashing on. The girl cried out even louder, her silent sobs, turning to uncontrollable wailing. The helmet piece began to slowly lower into place. August watched with rapt attention.

A beam of white light shone from the helmet, clasps moving to keep the girls head steady. August felt himself lurch forward in anticipation, but the Doctor held him back.

"She'll be fine. Once we shut down the network everyone will be alright."

There was a lot of screaming in the next few minutes. August held his lip tight, watching as the girl's struggling slowed and she cried herself hoarse. She was still, asleep for a matter of a moment. August could see the moment her brain became interrogated with the network for her body tensed, she sat up straight, and when she opened her eyes the colour had drained.

"Jane?" Asked Donna, "are you alright?"

The girl stood from the chair and faced Donna, "you will be _judged_."

August really did stand up then, anger rising in his chest. He felt the Doctor wrap his arm around August's shoulders.

"Alright, Keyes, you go grab Donna as soon as soon as you can, I'll create a distraction." Without even waiting for August to reply the Doctor stood from the corner and made his way to the centre of the room. "Hello!" He said brightly, "what have we got here! Hmmm, looks like a violation of article 15 of the _Shadow Proclamation_! Stasis technology on a level five planet?" The Doctor dodged a swift grabbing motion from one of the zombie people surrounding the device as he took a step up on to the platform. He knocked his knuckle against it, "in pretty bad shape too." He turned to look at the Donna, "are you alright?" He asked softly.

Donna looked him up and down, her mouth hung open.

" _Who're you_?" Crackled that slimy frog voice from somewhere outside the room. Whoever was speaking wasn't present among the mind slaves.

"I should be asking you the same question," said the Doctor. His gaze drifted towards the ceiling. Looking for a speaker most likely.

August saw Donna studying the geeky looking young man with big hair, a bowtie, and strangely familiar eyes with a very scrutinizing glare. The geek in him was fanboying beyond belief and he found himself smiling. _Donna Noble and the Eleventh Doctor, wowie._

As the Doctor continued on distracting the alien creature, spouting off about their wrong doings and how much trouble they were going to be in if they kept on, August searched the ground for anything he could toss at Donna to get her attention. He found a pebble, weighed it in his hand and chucked it over at her.

He missed, by a long shot, the pebble plinking off the toe of the girl, Jane. Luckily, she didn't notice; Donna, lucky, still caught sight of it and glanced down to where it had landed. From there her eyes trailed over to August's place in the shadowy corner.

He beckoned her.

Donna glanced between the Doctor and August, then the guards surrounding her and shook her head.

August nodded, mouthing "Yes," and waved his hands again.

Again, Donna shook her head, mouthing back "no."

This went on for quite some time.

"How very _noble_ of you," spoke the Doctor, louder than any other thing he had said to the alien thus far. His tone was snarky, lip curled in disgust. Both Donna and August glanced at him, "but the rest of the human race isn't just going to turn over and submit to you! Cause at the rate you're going it's going to take until, what? _August_ to conquer the whole planet? Somebodies bound to notice somethings wrong before then, and you can bet the human race won't just _run away_." The Doctor was jerking his head at August in such a way that he wasn't sure how anybody hadn't noticed the obvious gesture in his direction. From there, the Doctor moved to the other side of the room, the zombie people's eyes following him. "Now why don't you show me exactly what you look like, hmmm? You've got a big, fancy, flatscreen here, probably high def, I'd love to meet who I'm talking to."

Donna stared at the Doctor for a long moment, before quietly slipping her way over to August. As soon as she was close enough to him, August grabbed her by the shoulder.

"What's going on," she whispered, " _who's that?_ You aren't picking up strays, are you?"

"I'll explain later," said August, pushing her toward the opened door. However, much noise it made, August didn't care, he knew the Doctor could handle himself.

Once the door closed behind them, both Donna and August let out the air they'd been holding in.

"Blimey!" Said Donna, "I thought you were never gonna show up!" She turned around to let August undo the ropes around her hands, "where the hell have you been?"

"Well, a zombie for the most part," muttered August, "there you go."

As soon as her hands were untied, August suddenly found Donna's arms around his neck. "Thanks," she said, "I'm glad to see you're alright."

"You too," he said, hugging her back so tightly he might have been choking her, "God, I was so worried about you. I don't think I could have lived with myself if something bad happened."

August, surprised, felt Donna hug back tighter and It was a few minutes later that she released him, giving him her customary Donna Noble glare, "now are you gonna tell me who that funny looking bloke in there is, or am I just gonna have to guess?"

August chuckled awkwardly, "erm, yeah, that would be _the Doctor_."

" _The Doctor?_ " She looked at August like she hadn't quite heard him right. "You're kidding. My Doctor? _Our_ Doctor? _THE DOCTOR?_!"

"The Doctor." Confirmed August, smiling wide.

"but he looks younger than the Doctor," said Donna, "and what's with that _chin_? It's huge! Are you having me on, again?"

Oh, how to explain _regeneration_. "I wasn't 'having you on' the first time, round! Look, I'll explain more later, but really we should—"

Like some sort of dormant instinct, August choose the perfect time to pull Donna's hand into his and duck before the tail end of that weird, fleshy eye stock thing could wack him upside the head.

" _Prisoners!_ " Croaked the voice, " _escaping! Fools! After them! The weak minded will not escape!"_ The eyeball went to swing at August again, but suddenly found itself slammed up against the wall as the Doctor swung open the door it was attached to.

"Run!" Shouted the Doctor.


	18. Chapter Seventeen: The Conquering Qual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historian's Note:
> 
> For those who wish to keep up with the timeline of events, for August Keyes Series Ten has just started. For the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble, between "The Unicorn and the Wasp" and "Silence in the Library". For the Eleventh Doctor and the Ponds, it is soon after "A Christmas Carol", but before "The Impossible Astronaut".

" **The New Empire** will rise."

"What did you _do_?!"

"Angered a giant frog who wants to dominate the planet, not a smart thing to do when surrounded by its zombie minions." The Doctor ducked around the corner, closing one of several metal doors that had been left open along the hall and sealed it with his screwdriver.

"What happened to that girl," asked Donna, "is she alright?"

"She will be, once we find a way to disrupt the network for good. Something to give the brain a big, big, shock! Anyone got a massive alarm clock on hand?"

"Alarm clock?" Questioned Donna.

"So, I was right about the _frog_?" Asked August.

"Qual," explained the Doctor, "not exactly a frog, actually not a frog at all, amphibian, but with a more humanoid shape, more of a frog that walks on two legs. Not really, but if it helps." The Doctor slammed another metal door shut behind Donna and August, "the Qual used to be a mighty war race, destroying everything in their path. Usually they'd steal the best technology from the planets they conquered."

"Hence the hodgepodge tech." Said August.

The Doctor nodded, "if it was useful to their cause, they'd take it, if not they would destroy or kill it—if it was _alive_. I thought they'd all been wiped out after the Time War destroyed their planet, but it seems like someone made it out."

"So, now there's a Qual on Earth trying to conquer us?" Asked Donna.

"Using Yanano technology?" Asked August.

"Yes, and more like the Yanano itself. The mental stasis probe is of the Qual's own technology, that's probably how they got out of the Time War in the first place." The Doctor slammed the last door shut.

"Took you long enough," said Amy as the three returned to the Yanano chamber. She noticed Donna, "and you must be Donna, yeah?

"Ponds," said the Doctor, "Donna Noble, Donna Noble, Ponds. No more time for domestics, there's a hoard of zombie people after us all being controlled by an overweight amphibian." He flicked out his screwdriver, moving over to the Yanano's casing. "I've locked onto the trace signal of the device, now if I can just isolate the proper frequency the Yanano's transmitting from I should be able to send out a controlled burst onto the network, that is, if we can find the control matrix the Qual is using to send out directives…"

"What is that?" Asked Donna, her voice soft as she came round to look at the Yanano.

"It's a Yanano," said August. "Their what's sending out the signal that allows that creature—the Qual—to control all the humans," he explained, "sort of like a Wi-fi signal allowing you to connect to the internet." He realised.

"It looks like it's in pain." She muttered as the Yanano contorted in its dome.

"Yeah…" murmured August, and he had to look away, "we're trying to help them, right Doctor?"

"Yanano are incredibly peaceful creatures, I'm sure this one would happy to get back home." The screwdriver began blinking on and off, "oh, not now!" He slapped it against his palm, "Urgh, the radiation is messing with the sonic, I can't get a lock! And if I can't get a lock then I can't reverse the polarity using the control matrix." The Doctor sighed, running his hands through that mop of hair of his.

There was a loud banging against the metal door separating the army of mind-controlled humans from the time travellers. Everyone jumped and August was beginning to feel more on edge than he had in a long time.

"Are you sure it has to be a precise signal?" He asked, "couldn't you just let out a large electromagnetic blast, something to disrupt the signal like an iPhone to Wi-fi? A computer to a router?"

"Humans are the computers, the Yanano is the router, the Qual is in control of the server," murmured the Doctor, scratching his head with his screwdriver, "possibly, it'd have to be a large one though, something big… something really big… something that could cover the whole of London." He then thumped himself on the head. He turned to Rory, then, "Rory, you're a nurse. Ever operated an MRI?"

Rory started, being addressed directly for once. "Uh, once, yes, in school."

"Good. You're going to do it again," he tossed the sonic screwdriver over to August who fumbled with it.

"Hold on, but I have no idea how to—"

"There's a hospital a block down from the store we entered from. I've been there before; it has an MRI on the twentieth floor. Find the main control circuit. Should be just under the control panel. August, apply setting 12-B for five seconds, then activate the machine. Oh, then 42-A for another five seconds. That'll put it back to normal.

"I have no idea what that means!" Said August, looking over the screwdriver. He hated how foreign it felt in his hands.

"You can figure it out, your smart," his eyes flicked to Donna, "Donna, help him, he needs it."

"Don't I know it."

"Hey! I'm standing right here!"

"But what'll that do?" Asked Rory.

"EMP pulse big enough to fry the telepathic 'Wi-fi' network for a good thirty minutes. Should give the humans enough time to come to their senses, stop being vegetables. Knock out the electronics in London, too, but that can't be helped. Oh, and August, try not to faint, as you may have the urge to. Amy, come with me. I'll need you to send a text to Rory as soon as were ready." Spinning on his heel, he headed back towards the door that the humans were slowly knocking over.

"But wait, Doctor, what're we going to do?" Asked Amy.

"We'll still need to stop the Qual from reinitiating the control matrix once they've shut the network down it will only be a matter of time before the Qual attempts to reinitialise it."

"If you destroy the server, the router will have nothing to connect the computers too," said August happily, "that's brilliant!" He really did say that last part with a bit of an accent and cleared his throat when the Doctor grinned at him.

" _Exactly_!" The Doctor held him by the shoulder's smiling wide, "now, Amy, when this door opens, because it will open, you and I are going to get kidnapped and hopefully be taken directly to the Qual. Before that happens you three are going to run out that door," he pointed towards the door they had entered the underground through, "got it."

"Got it," said Amy without even blinking. Rory took her hand into his, squeezing it.

"Be safe," he said. They shared a soft moment.

"Geronimo?" Asked August.

"Hah!" The Doctor pointed happily at him, " _Geronimo._ "


	19. Chapter Eighteen: The End of 2120

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historian's Note:
> 
> For those who wish to keep up with the timeline of events, for August Keyes Series Ten has just started. For the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble, between "The Unicorn and the Wasp" and "Silence in the Library". For the Eleventh Doctor and the Ponds, it is soon after "A Christmas Carol", but before "The Impossible Astronaut".

**It wasn't easy** to get to the hospital. The whole of London seemed to be in the streets marching along to an unheard beat. _Imperial March_ , thought August, blithely.

It was still dark outside when they reached the surface and it took several tries from August to get the sonic screwdriver to unlock the store front door. Quickly and quietly, August, Rory, and Donna crept along the streets, the darkness hiding them from the sights of the zombie people, but it didn't half make them look creepier as they stalked along all slack jawed and emotionless.

When they reached the hospital, the door was unlocked, and they headed right in. To their surprise the hospital was still open. The lights were on and a few people were sitting around on their phones, not paying attention to the three strangers who'd just entered the building looking quite dishevelled, wet, and smelling like sewage.

"Do you think they're like the others?" Asked Donna at a whisper as they all slowly and nonchalantly as possible walked further into the building.

"Perhaps the Qual didn't get quite as many people as we thought," said August, "but they're not paying any attention to us which is somewhat worrying."

"We should probably just keep moving then, yeah?" Said Donna.

"Yeah," said August, and they followed Rory over to a set of elevators.

"20th floor the Doctor said?" Asked Rory. He pressed the button on the elevator. It was an awkward five minutes, August counted, before the doors opened onto the correct floor. The corridor the trio came on to was closed off by a partition with a desk at which a receptionist sat, led to rooms with signs indicating their contents: MRI, CT, X-Ray, PET, and other imaging machines. They came up short and retreated into the hallway they had come from.

"Do you think she's one of them?" Asked August.

"She seems normal enough," said Rory, "that Qual thing couldn't have gotten to _everyone_." He paused, sighing, "either way, we're not going to get in there. That woman controls the scheduling of the machines. If we're not on the list, then she won't let us in."

"This is sort of an _emergency_ ; think she'll make an exception?" muttered August.

"What? And tell her that there are a bunch of zombie people out in the streets? Do you want to freak her out?" Asked Donna.

August shrugged, "we'd have access to the machines then, wouldn't we?"

"Hold on," said Rory, looking over August, "you had the Doctor's sonic screwdriver, do you have any of his other _tools_ in that coat of yours?"

"Yeah, what about it—Oh!" It came to him, "oh, yeah," he smiled wide, dipping his hand into his trouser pocket to produce the psychic paper.

August peeked around the corner and surveyed the area, biting his lip, "alright, I'm an _okay_ actor… more for children, but anyways, follow me…"

He walked up to the desk, and the woman turned a lazy eye toward him. _Definitely a normal secretary_. "Can I help you?"

August effected a very overly pretentious English accent, instead of his normal American one. His voice wavered only slightly, as did his hand. "I'm Dr. Keyes, from the Royal Hope Hospital." He pulled out the psychic paper and flashed it at the woman, repeating _Royal Hope_ and _Dr. Keyes_ in his head several times so the paper wouldn't divulge anything but what he wanted it to. "These are my interns, Nurse Williams, and Nurse Noble. We're here to take a look at your MRI."

The woman looked him up and down, sceptical that August could be a doctor in that tight suit and coat, especially with all the dirt and grime. She consulted a schedule and replied, "Dr. Keyes? I don't have you listed for any time with the machine." Her look only hardened more.

August waved dismissively. "Oh, we're not running any scans," he laughed perhaps a bit too hard at that, "We're meeting with, erm" he glanced at the schedule in her hands before she pulled it away, "Dr. Taylor to evaluate the machine. The hospital is considering purchasing this model, thought it would be best to ask my old mate Taylor about it first before making any final decisions. You know how expensive these things can be. Taylor should be meeting us down her any minute now." He glanced down at his wrist, keeping it low so the women couldn't see that he wasn't wearing a watch. "We're on a schedule. Do you think we could go in and start looking it over?"

She looked uncertain. "Are you sure you can't come back in the morning; it is the middle of the night."

"Taylor said he was busy during the day," said August quickly, "night shift was the only time he'd be available. Now, we really are on a tight schedule…" August looked back towards Rory and Donna who nodded.

The woman looked between all three of them, "and… you're not going to run the machine?"

"Oh, no, not at all." He laughed nervously.

"I guess I can let you in early. Just don't touch anything." She pressed a button and the door buzzed. Rory pushed it open and let August and Donna through first before following him.

"Thank you, kindly." August nodded graciously at the woman before heading into the MRI room with Donna.

Rory checked his mobile, "no message yet."

"Do you think you can operate this?" August asked, his accent was back to normal.

Rory inspected the machine. "This is different from the one I used, but I think I can turn it on. The controls are here, and the main system is here. You got the screwdriver?"

"Yeah," August walked over to him, pulling the Doctor's spectacles from his pocket, "what settings did he say again? 12-B?"

"That sounds right." Said Donna, "sure you'll be able to turn it on? Last time you set off an alarm."

"Alarm? When?" Asked Rory.

"Long story." They both said at the same time, as August fiddled with the screwdriver.

"That was some nice work, by the way." Said Rory. "I've never been much good at acting."

"Thanks." August shrugged. "I'd like to think I have some experience with acting, there's so many kids at conventions who think you are the character you're dressed as so…" he sighed, thinking of the little boy in the Cyber-suit, then Parady, then Holly… "anyways…"

He felt Donna's hand on his shoulder and suddenly found his hands steadier.

"I'm _Rory_ , by the way." Said Rory, addressing Donna, "Williams."

"Donna Noble," said Donna, "as _the Doctor_ said." Her eyes went vacant for a moment, and August knew she was comparing the faces of the man she knew as the Doctor and the stranger down underground.

"He really _is_ the Doctor, Donna," said August, "I know it doesn't make much sense, but he's the same man."

"Yeah, I know, how could he not be…" She didn't sound very comforted.

It took them a few minutes, but eventually August was able to get the correct setting and Rory started up the machine, just in time for his phone to buzz.

"There's the text, she says go."

August knelt and applied the sonic screwdriver to the panel casing. He dearly hoped he hadn't screwed up as Rory waited five seconds before he punched a few buttons on the control panel. The lights in the room and the MRI itself immediately shut down. August could hear the receptionist swear in not-so-ladylike terms. Ten seconds later, the lights came back on again, and August started fiddling with the screwdriver.

"Urgh, what was the other setting?"

"42-A," said Donna, "you bad with memorising numbers or something?"

"Trig was the only C I ever made in high school," a few more seconds of fiddling and August jammed the sonic back into the MRI. "There. That should do it."

"Let's go." Rory stepped out the door, bumping into the receptionist.

"We had a bit of a power loss. Is everything okay?" She inquired.

"Yes! Erm," August remembered to switch accents, "fine, just fine. The MRI will need recalibration, of course, so I'll—we'll just head up to Taylor's office now to let him know. Thank you, kindly. Come along, Williams, Noble." He beckoned peremptorily at the two and strode off. Rory nodded a nervous smile at the woman, following after August. Donna continued after them.

Once out of the imaging department, they broke into a run, dashing towards the elevator (another five minutes of awkward silence), and out the front doors.

Out in the streets they were elated to find the marching had stopped and all the humans were currently sprawled out across the streets, some beginning to get to their feet with groggy looks on their faces.

"HA-HA!" Cried August, jumping happily into the air, "look at that! We did it!"

* * *

A few hours later, Amy and the Doctor emerged from the underground, the Yanano draped over their shoulders, followed by groups of bleary-eyed humans who seemed just as confused as everyone else. Rory was assisting an older lady when he spotted Amy. The couple smiled to each other and once they were both sure their charges were going to be okay, they ran into each other's arms, Rory spinning Amy around in the air.

"I'm so glad you're not a zombie person," said Rory breathless. They were kissing when August and Donna approached.

"Happy endings," said Donna with a smile as she watched the Doctor walking over with the Yanano,

" _I must thank you all for your help_ ," came the voice of the Yanano. A mental projection. " _If it weren't for you, I would have had to continue to do terrible things for the mistress_."

"It was no problem at all," said August, the largest smile on his face, "what happened to the Qual?" He asked, turning towards the Doctor.

"She escaped," he said, somewhat sadly, "but I don't think she'll try anything like that, again." He wrapped his arm around August's shoulders, "impressive job with the EMP, by the way."

"Oh, that reminds me," August dug into his breast pocket for the screwdriver, "sorry I threw yours into the Thames."

The Doctor held up his hand, "keep it, I can get a new one, though you can tell the TARDIS what happened to the last one, that's two gone within a very short time span, she won't be happy." He pointed an accusing finger at August, before returning to the Yanano's side, wringing out his hands, "now, if you won't mind staying here with August and Donna for a moment, I'm going to go get the TARDIS, and then we can get you home."

The Yanano nodded, " _thank you, Doctor_."

"Ponds, with me," said the Doctor. The trio was off in the direction of the Thames and August couldn't help but smile after them. He faltered, if only for a moment, when flashes of the future presented themselves to him. He could feel pain welling up in his chest at what was to come, not only for the Ponds, but for Donna, for both Doctors, and his _own._

"The stars are beautiful tonight with all the power out," said Donna.

" _Indeed_ ," said the Yanano, its hands folded in front of them, " _the stars on my world do not shine quite this bright even in the darkness._ "

August looked up at the sky to all the shimmering stars that glowed brightly, all the colours, all the wonders, and the worlds to explore. All the people to save. He thought that out their somewhere all those people that had been trapped on the Orion's Daemon were safe and living their lives, he thought about now, as everyone was helping each other get their bearings around the three, that for once in his life August had found purpose greater than anything he could have imagined. No matter what future held for him or those around him, he felt at peace in the moment.

" _Do the stars ever shine so bright on your Earth, August Keyes_?" Asked the Yanano.

August's head whipped down to face the Yanano, shock clear on his face, "how did you...?"

There was a soft twinkle of a melody in his head. The Yanano was laughing. " _The stars in your own night sky are quite different from the ones above us, seen through a fresher pair of eyes."_ August felt his expression harden. " _Do not look so sour, young one, I am sure you will find a way home eventually, especially with such good friends waiting for you."_

"How do you know about them?"

"Are you talking to her?" He heard Donna ask and he turned to her with a frown.

"You can't hear her talking?"

"I don't hear anyone, but you."

" _You and I are linked as I am sure the Doctor explained. Normally such an occurrence would not happen, but then again this is a special case. I must apologise for the earlier intrusion; I wasn't in my right mind."_

"What's she saying?"

"She's apologising for earlier," and then to the Yanano, "so you can hear my thoughts then?"

The Yanano titled its head, " _I was, your doors are closed to me now, but I can still communicate with you for the time being. You have an interesting mind, young one. You are a stranger to this world but walk within it as if you have already lived through its horrors. Truly fascinating; so many ideas and thoughts, all revolving around the Doctor. Such a strange and mysterious man."_ August felt a tickle in the back of his mind and was suddenly aware of the melancholic feelings the Yanano was trying to convey as she turned her head away, " _and there is something hidden, words that are kept secret from yourself."_ She straightened, staring at August. _"You must wait for the signal, August Keyes._ "

"Signal?" Asked August.

"Signal? What signal? What're you talking to her about?"

August shushed Donna, "is that how I'm supposed to find the Doctor? Some signal? What signal?"

" _I do not know,_ " said the Yanano, " _it was within your mind."_

"But I don't know of any signal, isn't there more to it than that?" And August had the distinct feeling that there was something urgent he was forgetting, something very important, _deadly_ important.

She shook her head. " _I am sorry, young one. Your thoughts were guarded and scattered, fragmented across your mind."_

"What _signal_?" Donna asked again, "what does it have to do with the Doctor?"

"I dunno," said August grimly as the wind began to pick up around them. The grinding of gears alerted them that the TARDIS was appearing.

A different box from the one August had come accustomed to, the Doctor stepped out, waving his hands in a ta-da motion. "Transport!"

The Yanano bowed to the Doctor and walked into the box, the Doctor following behind. August and Donna stared on.

"It looks different." Stated Donna.

"It is different," said August.

Donna snorted, "that's comforting."

"It's still the TARDIS."

"And is it him, though?" Donna asked, "is it _really_ the Doctor?"

"He's different," August said, "but it's him."

"I think I prefer geek chic to old college professor," she said, tugging at August coat. "He looks like a twelve-year-old. You'd think he'd be flying around with his _parents_ or something."

And August snorted, breaking into laughter then. He knew Donna was looking at him in confusion and he just waved his hand. "Sorry," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, "there's context to this that I can't explain." He sucked in a great big breath of air. "I don't know what I would do without you, Donna. I think you really help me keep this all sorted in my head."

"Yeah, well, it's what I'm good at." She was smiling too.

The Doctor's head popped back out the doors to the TARDIS, "well?" August and Donna just stared at him, "aren't you coming?"

August's eyes went wide, "um, but, what about—" he looked off to the direction of the other TARDIS which was still sitting out near the Thames, "—and the paradoxes? Two Doctor's in one TARDIS? What about _Belgium_?"

The Doctor waved his hand, "oh, _Belgium_ will be fine. What would you do in the TARDIS without me, anyhow? It's not like you can fly it. And who best to help you find where I've popped off to other than, well, me?" The Doctor adjusted his bowtie.

Donna looked at August, "he is right, you're driving stinks worse than the Doctor's."

"If it wasn't for _my driving,_ we wouldn't have met Chinny in the first place," said August, indignant.

"Oi," said the Doctor, "don't knock the chin, now come on, I think we've stayed here long enough," the Doctor dipped back into the TARDIS. "You'll want to see this, Donna!"

August let Donna go in first. "Blimey!" He heard almost immediately, "this is much better than the old coral and grate flooring!"

August found himself smiling wide again, shaking his head. He took one last look out onto London 2120, all the people and the stars shining brilliantly above. He thought of what the Yanano had said, a grave look passing his features for a moment, before stepping into the TARDIS.


	20. Chapter Nineteen: The Pit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historian's Note:
> 
> For those who wish to keep up with the timeline of events, for August Keyes Series Ten has just started. For the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble, between "The Unicorn and the Wasp" and "Silence in the Library". For the Eleventh Doctor and the Ponds, it is soon after "A Christmas Carol", but before "The Impossible Astronaut".

_**It was cold** _ _and bright. August couldn't see anything but a blurry impression of solid, all-encompassing white light. He tried to bring up his arms to shield his eyes from the intrusion but found that he couldn't move his arms. He tried to close his eyes, but that didn't work either. His head wouldn't move, and he realised he couldn't feel his legs. At a loss for what to do, he screamed and that worked. A painstaking, blood-curdling scream that echoed around him, painful, but he didn't know what else to do._

" _Now, now," said a stranger; a soft sinister whisper that bit at his ears like a fork scraping against a plate. August whimpered in fear as he felt a gloved hand push against the bottom of his jaw. "There's no need for that yet, we haven't even gotten to the fun part."_

" _W-who're you?" August asked, "what am I doing here? Why can't I move? Where's Holly? Where's Parady?"_

" _Do not worry yourself with those primitives, you needn't stress yourself over the dead."_

" _You're lying!" August shouted, and he really tried to struggle, but his whole body felt frozen. "What have you done with them! If you hurt them!"_

_The gloved hand was at his jaw again, gripping it tightly and August choked. "Silence, boy!" Said the stranger, "or you'll mouth will be the next to go," there was a pause as the stranger titled August's head side to side, "yes," he murmured, "we'll need to fix those teeth…" He let go of August's jaw again, this time the stranger's movements were accompanied by the sound of scraping metal._

" _What're you going to do to me?" Asked August._

_The stranger seemed to find that question humorous. "I would call it a kindness, but others might call it death."_

_For a moment, feeling seemed to return in August's chest and he felt cool metal press up against the centre. A sudden, overwhelming red-hot pain overtook him and before he was even aware of it, he screamed his throat hoarse. The pain moved down the centre of his chest, the most agonizing thing he'd ever felt in his life. When the stranger finally stopped, August's voice was a dry chortle and he could barely breath._

" _Please…" he murmured, barely at a whisper, "please not again, not again, it hurts."_

_The stranger chuckled loftily, "oh, we haven't even gotten started."_

_It burned and it burned. Tearing at August from the inside out and he was screaming until he couldn't anymore. He didn't know what to think or feel and it was killing him; killing his mind, while his body was being torn into pieces._

_It all felt…_

… _so familiar._

* * *

August awoke in a cold sweat, tangled in the duvet. That voice, the sinister devil of a whisper, rang in his ears, but the terror gripping at his hearts had nothing to do with the dream: he knew he wasn't alone in the room. He could feel the presence of someone or something. He called out, "lights!" and jumped out of the bed, the duvet still wrapped around him as he blinked against the brightness. There was no one there.

He couldn't shake the feeling, and, dropping the duvet, he ran around checking the wardrobe, under the bed, and in the en-suite, but August came up empty. The feeling subsided as he became fully awake.

August sat down on the bed again, holding his head in his hands.

The dream… that dream had slipped away from him as he gained a tighter grasp on his sanity. Something had upset him, but he couldn't remember what it was. August realised he was feeling better for having slept, and though there was no way of telling exactly how long he'd dozed.

He'd only planned a short nap after having found the room he'd slept in on the other Doctor's TARDIS in this one while the Doctor dropped the Yanano off at Arrodian IV, but most likely he'd gotten at least half a nights amount of sleep. He wondered blearily what the others were up to and got back up to get a shower and get dressed.

After his shower, August debated on whether or not he should put on the Doctor's pinstripe suit, but decided against it when he smelt the clothing. A mixture of pungent smells, none too pleasing and he dropped the suit pieces into the laundry hamper. He moved on to the closet door in the room and was pleased to find an assortment of normal clothing. August began to get dressed pulling on a dark pair of blue jeans. He was about to put on a shirt as well when he spotted a rather odd thing in the mirror.

He wouldn't have spotted the marks had the lighting not been just right for his eye to catch the weird coloration. August didn't know what the marks were exactly until he ran his hand down his back and felt the skin thinning along his spine. Stretch marks, and now really thinking about it, he ran his fingers down his chest and was surprised to feel much the same, except this felt deeper. Less like a natural stretching of the skin, and more like a healed deadly wound. August's lips drew into a fine line as his brow furrowed, feeling up and down the stretched skin. He thought, blearily, that it wasn't quite right, but as he grew more uncomfortable touching his current body, he put on a shirt and soon forgot about the markings.

He opted for something more casual to go with the jeans, so he put on a tee-shirt and a Henley shirt, perfect for mild weather. Combing his hair, he brushed the fringe off to the side to keep it out of his eyes. Not a very _Doctor-ish_ look, and he ruffled his hair, his fingers running down the sideburns again as he took more time to study his face in the en-suite mirror. That, paired with the Doctor's cream converse and specs, he went to leave the room, but stopped when he saw the coat hanging on the door

August glanced at the suit still on the floor and went over to it. Rooting through the pockets he picked out the sonic screwdriver, TARDIS key, and psychic paper. On his way out, he picked the overcoat off its hanger.

When he entered the control room, everyone was already waiting for him.

"Morning, sleepy-head," said Donna. August saw her eyes flicker over him, sizing up his new appearance.

"Finally decided to join us, have you?" August heard the Doctor's voice and had to look down through the glass flooring to see him sitting in that little swing of his. The Doctor stood, bounding towards the steps and up to stand in front of August. He smiled at him, before looking down at his clothes with a frown. "Oh," he whined, "you've _changed_. Why'd you have to go and do that?"

"I can't just wear _your_ suit around all the time, now can I?"

"Well—" began the Doctor.

"We were just discussing where a good place to start looking for the other Doctor would be," interrupted Amy, "Donna was explaining that they were headed to a _Library_ when the TARDIS started acting funny."

"Yeah, some giant outer space Library," said Donna, "do you think something there could have anything to do with all this?"

Out of the corner of his eyes, August saw the Doctor tense, before he pretended to look at the console monitor. "Erm, I don't think that has anything to do with what happened." Said August, "what about my universe? If I'm stuck here, maybe he's stuck there."

"Can't," said the Doctor. "Without knowing where the rift you came through is, there's no way to get to your universe without punching a new hole through space-time, but there's no telling where we'd come out. And then the universe would have a hole. Nasty things, holes. Nothing in them, and that one would go through the Void. The nothing would be made of nothing and we can't have that."

"There's not some sort of… energy signal you can trace or anything?" Asked August. "What about _void stuff_?"

"That's background radiation from the _void_ , not from your universe. So no, no signal." Said the Doctor.

"So, what do we do, then?" Asked Rory, "we've got no leads."

"Well, hold on, you were talkin yesterday with the Yanano about some sort of signal, weren't you?" Asked Donna, looking towards August.

"Signal?" Asked the Doctor, his tone becoming curious and grave, "what sort of signal?"

"Uhm, I'm not sure. She just said that I should ' _wait for the signal_ '."

"Anything else?" Asked the Doctor, searching August's expression.

"No, not really. She didn't even seem to know what it meant. I dunno what it means."

"Of course, you don't, the Yanano was being enigmatic," and the Doctor pushed a lever down next to August, before moving to the other side of the console.

"So?" Asked Amy, "are we going to start looking for some sort of _mysterious signal_?"

"No, we're going to _wait_ for some mysterious signal, Pond. Yanano said wait, so we… _wait._ Anyway! Where are we off to? Somewhere interesting I hope." He said, turning on his heels to face his entourage of companions.

" _Wait_?" Asked Donna, "well how long is that gonna take?"

"As long as it wants," said the Doctor, "not much else we can do. I'm sure wherever I am I can take care of myself. What about Paris, 1971? Aberdeen?" He continued on with his new train of thought, "the planet _Reconaphobia_ , they have great biscuits there… and a lot of people with phobias…" he frowned for a moment, before brightening back up again, "oh, or Cardiff! Cardiff would be nice!" He twirled back to the console and began entering coordinates for Cardiff in a random year.

Donna sighed and Amy scrunched up her nose in distaste, crossing her arms. "How is Cardiff interesting?"

August moved away from the console, "he probably just wants to refuel the TARDIS at the rift that's there." He came to rest against the railing, facing Amy.

The Doctor flipped the last switch and with a jerk, the time rotor started pumping and the ship trembled like it always did in flight. He spun back to face August, leaning against the console next to him, his arms crossed. "No, just thought it might be nice to pop in for a visit, but a fine idea, nonetheless. She's already mostly full but might as well top her up."

August watched the time rotor bob up and down, his thoughts distant.

* * *

The moment Amy stepped out of the TARDIS, she decided from then on, she'd check for solid ground or at the very least let the Doctor go first. It was August who caught her hand before she went plummeting down into the large crater below.

"I've got you!" Called August. His face began turning bright red as he tried to get a better grip around her wrist, but it was obvious that even if August was able to, he wouldn't be able to hold her for long.

"Amy! Your other hand!" Called her husband, kneeling outside the TARDIS doors to reach for his wife. Amy tried to reach her fingers up to his multiple times, but she couldn't get enough oomph to swing her hand around and reach his without sacrificing the hold August had on her other hand.

She glanced below her, and her chest tightened at the chasm below. Amy felt her hand growing hot, the ridges of August's nails digging into her jumper sleeve. "You're slipping!" He cried, and Amy felt his other hand grab at her arm. "I don't think I can pull you up!" Rory was leaning farther and farther out of the TARDIS, now trying to grip Amy by her shoulder instead.

"I'll go see if I can find a rope or something," said Donna, loudly, concern lacing her words.

"Hold on, Pond, we'll get you up in a moment," said the Doctor.

August grunted, his converse making a slick squeal against the TARDIS's brass flooring, "uh oh," he murmured. "Rory, I'm slipping, I'm slipping," he said as he tried to move his leg back into a more grounded position. Amy could feel herself lowering deeper into the crater with every shift forward.

Rory gave Amy a reassuring nod, before he stood up and moved behind August, grabbing him around the waist to try and pull him back. It wasn't enough.

The tight grip of August's hand around her wrist gave way and Amy felt herself in free fall. August's frightened face tumbled into sight as he fell from the TARDIS doors as well, followed by Rory at his back.

It was a sight as the three of them went plummeting into the depths of the crater, the rush of the wind hiding their cries.

Either by some struck of wild luck or perhaps someone looking out for them for even though Amy hit the side of the crater hard and was sure to be bruised, the curved edge of the crater supported her fall. They went tumbling down as if on a grassy hill during summer, except there was less laughing, more screaming, and a lot more dust and sand.

It wasn't a long fall, but Amy was rather done with it in the first three seconds. When she reached the bottom, Amy breathed out a sigh of relief, relaxing if only for a moment as August and Rory couldn't help but collide with her.

"Sorry, sorry," said August as he quickly moved off of her. He attempted to stand, but quickly fell back to his bum. Amy could only guess his world was swimming just as much as hers was. She sat up, but stayed off her feet, trying not to throw her breakfast up.

"Are you three, alright?" Called the Doctor from above. His voice was distant, and when Amy looked up, she only saw a spec that was the Doctor, his hands cupped around his mouth, Donna peering out the TARDIS doors next to him.

She gave him a half-hearted thumbs up but realised that wouldn't be enough. "We're fine, Doctor," she shouted, despite her exhaustion.

"I'll re-park the TARDIS!" Cried the Doctor, "Donna and I will meet you down there in a moment. Just hold on tight," the sound of the TARDIS doors shutting echoed throughout the crater. A moment later, and Amy could no longer see the blue box in the distance.

Amy rolled her head onto her shoulder to glare at August. "Nice job, _August_."

"Oi," said August, out of breath, "it's a lot harder to pull someone up by one arm then the movies would like you to think."

"Where are we?" Asked Rory, "I mean, I know were in a giant crater, but is this Earth or…?"

"I wouldn't think so," said August, leaning back against his hands. He pointed towards the sky and Amy followed his finger towards the large incandescent brown arches cutting across the skyline and down into the horizons. "Looks like _rings_."

"Like on Saturn?" Asked Amy and she finally felt well enough to stand. She took a moment to glance over her extremities, nothing seemed broken, and Rory agreed after his own assessment, that she was nothing but bruised and a little scratched up. He quickly went to work with his pocket emergency kit, bandaging up anything he saw fit to on the both of them.

"That is beautiful," said August and he was still looking up at the sky a few minutes later. He cupped his hands over his eyes as he looked eastward towards the sun. "There's something else up there…" he added, but Amy didn't care to look anywhere but where the TARDIS had disappeared from.

"Shouldn't he be back by now?" She said tentatively.

Rory groaned as he seemed to just become aware of how long it had been. "Oh, not again," he muttered. "if he left us here…"

"He'll be back," said August, "he always comes back… eventually." There was silence for a moment, as all three of them began to grow anxious of the Doctor's return, when Rory called out.

"Do you see that?" He asked, looking off in the opposite direction the TARDIS had de-materialised from. Amy and August followed his gaze to find at the edge of the crater a faint outline of what could only be people.

"Uh oh," said August for the second time that day.

"Why 'uh oh'? Is everything always 'uh-oh' with you?" Asked Amy.

"Well," began August, swallowing hard, "when it looks like a lot of strangers with guns are on their way towards you, then yeah. I would definitely say 'uh-oh'."

"Should we run?" Asked Rory, already taking a few steps back for he had spotted the same outline of gun-like weaponry in the hands of the shadowy strangers as well.

"Where to?" Said Amy, "we don't exactly have anywhere to _go_."

"Trespassers!" Bellowed a voice from the top of the crater. "Submit, or we will shoot you down!"

Slowly, and somewhat reluctantly, the three of them rose their hands in the air as three of the figures at the top of the crater began their way down. Amy snuck a glance behind them, hoping desperately for the TARDIS to appear suddenly, but it seemed like the Doctor wasn't going to show up anytime soon.

When the three figures reached the bottom of the crater, Amy couldn't tell if they were human or not. Each wore a large military-like helmet that covered their entire heads, with only a thin slit of blue glass where their eyes were. The tallest one with blue stripes down the back of their helmet stood in front of the other two, the leader most likely, surveying the time travellers with silent scrutiny.

"Which one of you is in command?" Growled the leader.

Amy shared a glance with Rory and August. None of them really knew who should take charge without the Doctor around, so Amy decided for them.

"I am," she said.

The leader turned to her. After a moment silence, "what is your rank?"

"Rank?" Asked Amy. It was obvious this lot were some type of military, and it would seem they thought the same of her and the others, but it was never as easy as saying 'captain' and being done with it.

"Yes, rank," said the leader, sounding annoyed. "I am blue team: sergeant. What is your rank?"

"Erm, also, sergeant." Amy did her best to sound confident in her answer.

The sergeant let out a hearty laugh, "a red team commander! Bully!" He turned to his compatriots, "it would seem this is our lucky day, men."

"Red team?" Asked August, "what do you mean, red team?"

Rory seemed to have caught on first. "Our clothing," he murmured. "They've got blue stripes; we've all got on red." In no way having been planned the jumper Amy wore, Rory's plaid, and August's Henley shirt were all a bright red, standing out against the black and blue armour of their captors.

Something seemed to click in August's brain, his eyes widening. "No, hold on, you've got it all wrong!" He came up to the Sargent pleading, "we're not on any team! We're here by mistake, our friend he—"

One of the guards stepped forward and hooked August's arm, yanking him away from the Sargent.

"No team?" Said the Sargent, "You won't fool us, red. Lieutenant Church will know what to do with you. Men." Spinning on his heel, he strode back towards the side of the crater they'd come from. His men urged the trio forward with the butt of their guns. They had no choice but to follow as prisoners.

"August—" Amy began, hoping the boy could provide her with some sort of answer, but the guard next to her grabbed her arm and silenced her with a growl. Rory moved to protect her with an affronted. "Hey!' and was immediately yanked back by the guard behind him.

"Quiet!" The Sargent yelled, and as the TARDIS crew proceeded without another word, Amy jerked her arm out of the guard's grasp. She glanced back once more at where the TARDIS had been and tried to decide what she'd do to the Doctor is they made it out of this mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyah Folks, from this point onwards updates, are gonna get a little bit more spotty then they already are. I hope to update at least once a month, but as of right now all chapters here on out have been planned but not written. Bare with me as we get to the latter half of this story! I hope you've all enjoyed it so far!  
> P.S. Does anyone know what those places the Doctor listed off visiting have in common? ;)


End file.
